


A Thousand Suns of Gold

by noondaize



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Adopted Children, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bathing/Washing, Blink And You Miss It Corruption Kink, Bottom Song Mingi, Dresses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Family Fluff, Family Reunions, Field Sex, First Time, Frottage, Gardens & Gardening, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Homelessness, Hot Springs, Idiots in Love, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Modern Royalty, Non-Sexual Intimacy, ONEUS finally show up wooo, One Big Happy Family, Parents Kim Hongjoong & Park Seonghwa, Porn with Feelings, Prince Song Mingi, Protective Kang Yeosang, Royal Advisor Choi San, Semi-Public Sex, Siblings Choi Jongho & Jeong Yunho, Soft Choi Jongho, Soft Jeong Yunho, Song Mingi-centric, Tagging this is honestly so difficult, Thieves and other miscellaneous titles, This is...yikes, Top Jeong Yunho, Underwater Sex, sex under the stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28939464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noondaize/pseuds/noondaize
Summary: But the stranger before him resembles those boys before they’d grown into those stoic men. A boy kept well within his youth even as he grew older, like a flower forever preserved. He looks like youth, to Mingi.And it frightens him, that if it were just a few months prior in a kingdom still well-ruled— these feelings that swirl and pool within his stomach would undoubtedly be love at first sight.(Living alone in the desolate countryside of a dying kingdom he once ruled, Prince Song Mingi meets the travelling nomad Jeong Yunho, who asks for a lot more than lodging when he steps into his crumbling estate.)
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 85





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there.
> 
> This thing has been my passion project for the past nine days, which I spent with my neck aching from leaning in so close to my laptop screen. My search history is probably just "types of dresses" forty times over, but that's the price you pay for deciding to dedicate enough time to write something that's just hanging around in the back of your mind as a concept.
> 
> The entire fic is already done and clocks in at about 43K words, so I'll more than likely update every day or every other day :) Hopefully won't be that long a wait so you can read it all sooner rather than later, though I make no promises!
> 
> I really hope you guys like this; I tried to put as much of my effort as I could put in a short amount of time, but I admittedly have also rushed a lot and didn't fully beta read...editing/proofreading is kind of my worst enemy... ^^;;;
> 
> Either way, please enjoy.
> 
> -n.

Among the crumbling vines that continue to wilt with their brittleness, Mingi finds a place to slip into slumber. Just below the rows of flourishing trees which have started to wither away, Mingi rests his head into yellowing grass and finds a moment of peace. To slip into dreamless rest, wishing only for respite from the assault of day. The sun doesn’t find him here, locked away by the gentle caress of nature, which recognizes his burdensome way of life and offers tranquility. He tries to feel at home— because this is, indeed, his home. Always has been and always will be.

But in the moments that have followed his shattered reign, it begins to feel more like a prison.

-☼-  
  


Mingi was once a prince.

Respected, revered, adored. In any way that feelings of such strong devotion could be said, such were spoken of Mingi with only the kindest of eyes. He was beloved. They treasured him as though he were their crown, embedded in diamonds and shimmering within the glitter-filled youth of sunlight. Mingi was joyful; a singer of halfway constructed songs and a dancer with no care for grace. He ate, drank, and slept beside the townsfolk as though they were all family. And he had felt they were. 

His fathers— two kings, named Seonghwa and Hongjoong— ruled with just as much care to their touch as they’d held their son. Not a thing out of place in their diligence, always interwoven and undoubtedly two halves of a whole piece. They worked as a unit to do exactly what they’d aimed for: lead a small patch of land into prosperity. To pick all that had ruined itself and rotted away, with a single touch molding it into refurbished gold. With their poise and kindness, they created equality. They created a home.

That place that had always been theirs. That place where Mingi had felt at peace.

But as all good things, it came to an end. As small and pacifistic as their position remained, other kingdoms took threat to their name. It was decided by the surrounding territories to create the war Hongjoong and Seonghwa had spent so long distancing themselves from. The peace was overturned, and everything was ruined and began to rot away once more.

It looked much like it did long before they’d ever taken hold of the monarchy. A desolate land run by desperation in poverty. Many of the townsfolk up and moved away once they’d heard the kings disappeared in the middle of battle. 

The people loved them so much, they’d never even so much as suggested the rumor that they’d run away. So instead, among those who stayed, the lament began for the death of their two kings. 

And Mingi cried, and mourned, and sent prayers alongside them. Their son. The prince of the people.

With the destruction of his kingdom, Mingi knew better than to assume rule. He’d tried— for the smallest bit of time, just to try and lend some benevolence from God, he’d _tried_ — but it was beyond salvation. What his fathers accomplished, they’d completed as two. They made up for one another’s faults and filled the gaps left behind seamlessly, each stitch pulled to fruition by their soul’s bonding which kept them together. That was impossible to replicate; irreplaceable and inconceivable past their death. Mingi, alone, could have never hoped to be even half a single man’s rule, much less that of two. 

So the kingdom fell into split up portions among their victors. Trampled upon and desecrated, with sectors of the village adopting new required culture and religion. The harmony they had fell into disarray and the people grew pained, seeking new lands farther away or resigning themselves to a quiet life of looming death. And Mingi was forced to watch; as the kindness, the reverence, that peace which had always been within him disappeared into nothingness. Fizzling out like flattening carbonation. Dying out after its greatest moment like a firework. 

The kingdom was over, and Mingi was a prince no more.

-☼-  
  


With the abrupt departure of the townsfolk, much property was left abandoned. Mingi had found a quaint estate by the forest’s side, left untouched and unbothered as the inhabitants more than likely up and left after news of the war. Sometimes he wonders where they’ve gone, but in the end thinks nothing more of them than an occasional blessing or good will for their deed saving him the trouble of being a nomad. He was quick to bring what little possessions he had to fill the emptied and dust-covered space, haphazardly cleaning what he could and packaging away the rest in a neat fashion. It reminded him of his father when he cleaned, that familiar scent of soaps and cleansers galore as suds poured through the hallway. Indeed, Seonghwa had an unnaturally keen eye for hygiene, but in times like these Mingi is grateful for his father’s lessons.

He thinks less of him when he begins to tear, though the secret of his furniture and floors being stained with his tears remains one he’ll take to his grave dutifully, hiding away the sorrow as good princes do. 

There are many lovely benefits of his new home. There’s the garden of cypress trees and a chipped fountain that still manages to work despite its age. There’s fruits in some of the gardens that remain a beautiful sight despite the way they’ve begun to rot. There’s ponds and trees and— water and grass for as far as the eye travels.

There’s loneliness in abundance beside the beauty. The flowers which droop low beneath Mingi’s caress as though they hear his sorrow loud and clear. _Maybe in another life,_ he muses, _would they grow beautifully under my fingers._

In some separate realm where his reign is filled with love and prosperity. Where his fathers greet him lovingly and he begins to fall for a divine future king of his own. Where he is swept off of his feet in a ragtag dance that brings tears to his eyes from laughter, breathless with the kisses he and that invisible lover would share.

But those are dreams Mingi only has when he’s awake, now finally beginning to stir from that dreamless slumber he sunk into beneath the trees. Still as lonely before it as he is in this moment, though his body has a lesser excuse for fatigue now.

“What time ‘s it…” He asks no one, speaking to the trees and the flowers and the patchy grass that tears itself apart beneath him. The wind greets him with a harsh blow, and Mingi figures that’s nature’s way of saying _‘time to rise.’_

He pats away at his fastened skirt, the lingering remnants of greenery clinging to the maroon fabric. Though from the way it’s begun to die, it appears as streaks of yellow.

He treks up towards the main home in the center of the estate, slow as he goes but not slow enough to sink into the melting ground. Not much has changed within the weather these days, Spring sun high upon the infinite picturesque blue. The type of perfect that leaves nothing spilling over the edges, as though the world was untainted and all that existed atop nature was an afterthought. It makes Mingi feel out of place, as much as he feels shielded by it. He passes greens and yellows and browns, pops of color rare when they’re not channeled into splotches where the flowers grow. The trek back is long, quiet, and silent.

He ruffles his skirt along the way, gently clutching it between his fingers to give them something to feel. It hasn’t been long since he started wearing skirts in favor of pants. Having moved here with only what he could carry, Mingi was left without a large range of options to choose from. He had no helpers to patch together something at his request, and very little tailoring skill in comparison to his father. However, Hongjoong had left him this small token of talent just as Seonghwa had left his cleanliness— what minuscule bit of sewing and measuring Mingi could do, he used to create comfortable skirts and dresses from the leftover fabric in the estate. Nothing extravagant or signaling riches, but he’s sure if his fathers were still around they would compliment him all the same. All things considered, the modesty of his newer attire made him fit well enough with his scenery. Beautiful in a quiet way with nothing marvelous to accompany it. That was, of course, self-assumption that he was beautiful in his skirts. 

“It’s food time...” he murmurs, boredom prevalent in the tired tone of his voice. He only uses it on occasion now, trying to make sure his throat doesn’t die out like myths had told him of talking too much or too little. He knew it was a childish fear, but the silence was unbearable and the thought of being stuck within it forever made his skin crawl. 

He hums a little tune to himself, entering the main doors of his luxurious home and knocking his heeled boots along the tile to rid the rest of his body of the outside world. Happy with the flowing grass that falls from him, he continues his rising hummed tune on the way to the oversized kitchen.

He’s stopped in the hall by the sight of a satchel— a satchel which hadn’t been there before he’d left.

He feels frozen in his tracks, wondering belatedly if his heels were creating a loud enough clack to be heard by a possible intruder. Then again, Mingi wonders who’d enter an estate in broad daylight so fearlessly. While Mingi had made the same choice when he stumbled along the place, there was nothing hinting at signs of life. He’s certain he left books and cups askew enough for it to at least signal that there was life present, although not within the immediate vicinity.

Then again, he wonders if they truly care. Seeing as how they abandoned their own possessions to slump against a wall by the kitchen entry, maybe they were far more sloppy than Mingi had anticipated. 

He moves boldly at the anger that flares in him— the fact that someone would intrude upon his (albeit borrowed) home and carelessly make a point of showcasing their entry sends him into rage. They had done the exact same to his kingdom, rival royals allowing their army the disgraceful right to settle into his taverns and sleep in his inns. Mingi was no longer kind enough to tolerate such behavior, not when it last led to war so blatantly degrading.

He picks the satchel up and opens it with no regard for privacy, sifting through the smallest of trinkets he’s ever seen. A loaf of bread that had been bitten away at so often it was nearly a crumb, a pocket book of Romeo and Juliet which had evidently been worn away at the edges, and a tiny switchblade that had begun to dull.

Nothing, really. Though perhaps to this person, it was everything. He closes the satchel gently and places it back exactly where he’d found it, stomping forward and throwing the door of his kitchen open.

Indeed, inside was a man of similar height— stuffing his face with some of Mingi’s leftover pastries from his previous attempt to bake.

The stranger stares at him with shaking eyes, mouth halfway through a chewing motion and hands suddenly shot upright to signal their emptiness. He looks at Mingi with eyes that say— 

“Don’ shoo’!” The stranger cries around his mouthful of food. He scrambles away from the mess of crumbs he’s made along Mingi’s counter, the prince quick to sense an irritable feeling rise within him. Perhaps his father had rubbed off on him more than he knew.

“Swallow your food before you speak,” Mingi snorts. As disrespected as he feels, the stranger was nothing short of a humorous sight. He was round-cheeked and doe-eyed, and his head carried a full lock of deep black hair. All things considered, Mingi found him exceptionally gorgeous. The type of roguish handsome the boys were in his neighboring village, who played with wooden swords and scraped their knees with little care. The boys who giggled in mud piles and hid behind trees when they cried— too young to be strong, but too afraid to be seen as naïve. The boys Mingi watched grow up wanting to be their dad, tough and silent and afraid to cross the line of manhood and what it entailed. 

But the stranger before him resembles those boys before they’d grown into those stoic men. A boy kept well within his youth even as he grew older, like a flower forever preserved. He looks like youth, to Mingi.

And it frightens him, that if it were just a few months prior in a kingdom still well-ruled— these feelings that swirl and pool within his stomach would undoubtedly be love at first sight.

“I’m sorry for intruding,” the stranger says once his mouthful is deep into the pit of his stomach. “I didn’t mean to thieve— or well, _I did_ but— but I meant no harm by it. I wasn’t going to hurt anyone and the only thing I aimed to steal was food! I swear it!”

Mingi surveys the rest of this frantic stranger: a short navy blue tunic that hugged his frame kindly, the sleeves ending at the mid of his upper arm. He wore simple gray pants that were blotted with dirt and other miscellaneous stains. His shoes followed the pattern of the rest of his clothes— scuffed and dirtied as though they hadn’t been properly washed in a long few weeks.

“You’re...a wanderer, aren’t you?” Mingi watches the way the man flinches at that, eyes downcast and hands clenched together before him. He shifts side to side, cheeks and ears reddening at an alarming rate as though Mingi had exposed his darkest secret.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” The stranger frowns. His eyes glisten a little more as he shifts, the profligate chandelier above them casting a light just right onto his gaze. He stood out harshly against the clean lines and snow-white porcelain, and perhaps he’d caught onto it too as he shrunk further beneath his own skin. “I’m sorry. I understand that it must be...offensive, to have someone like me roaming around your home and touching your things—”

“It’s not like that,” Mingi says quickly. “Please, don’t say that, okay? It’s not your fault that you’re in this situation, and I’d be a fool not to help you when you’ve resorted to doing something like this just to get by.”

The stranger gazes up at him with hope, tears brimming at the outer corners of his sweet round eyes. He looks innocent, well-intending. Mingi loves to believe that everyone in the world is to be trusted, but at the recent turn of events he’s had a harder time doing so.

He reasons with himself that he’s been trained in combat since boyhood, should anything happen. In a one-on-one confrontation, he could take this man easily— even in his heels and skirt. If this stranger truly wishes to exploit him, then Mingi will fight that battle when it comes with acceptance. His actions have consequences, that much these last few months have taught him.

But if this stranger really needs help, then Mingi would never be one to turn him away. He knows his fathers wouldn’t, either. It’s what made them marvelous kings.

“You would allow me to stay for a while? I promise that I will look for work and leave you be when I find adequate housing.” The stranger pats his pockets in a motion that signifies his emptiness, making a show of how little he possesses. Mingi waves him away with a placid expression, smiling with a polite nature.

“Yes, if it helps then by all means. I’ve more space here than I could ever need, and I suppose company could be quite nice.” He gives the stranger a motion to move nearer, the two of them exiting the kitchen as Mingi hands him his soft little satchel. Upon closer inspection, he notices the many seams that had been stitched up again and again with multicolored threads— all at differing periods of time, and differing levels of skill. He wonders if the stranger has always needed such help and gotten it from passersby, though he’s not met many homeless people in his life and knows nothing of their journey to survive. Not even his kingdom had such a thing. His fathers always took care of the sick and the poor until they were healthy and safe. 

“Is this really all you possess?” He asks the man, directing him to settle on the spacious couch within his living room. The stranger sits down so politely, back ramrod straight and eyes nearly unblinking, that Mingi wonders if he’s seen a ghost.

“Uh, yeah,” the man murmurs. “I don’t really have the means to carry more and I have no way of collecting anything besides the clothes on my back, anyway.”

“A shame,” Mingi says with a frown. “I can only make skirts and dresses with my tailoring knowledge. I don’t suppose that could be of help to you?”

“It could!” The stranger bounces, lightly rocking in his seat with a gleam in his eyes that Mingi finds positively endearing. “I really don’t mind! Any new clothes would be much appreciated, and I think my legs would love a breather from these confining pants. If it’s not too much trouble, a skirt would be lovely.”

Mingi laughs at his eagerness, waving him off again and leaving just long enough to get a simple blue sundress that was a size too big. The stranger takes it with grateful and tender hands, gawking at the fabric between his fingertips as though he’d never seen another article of clothing besides his own.

“I’m Mingi, by the way,” the prince says with a smile. He finds the stranger’s reverence for his shoddy handiwork as loving as the rest of him, which has proven to have the energy of a full-grown Golden Retriever dog that wanted to stick its warm little snout into everything.

“I’m...Yunho,” he says, cheeks reddening even more, if it were possible. By now Mingi feels his ears could resemble smudges of lipstick— like the ones he used to see on particularly happy husbands and wives when their own spouses would kiss them tenderly. It was a sight Mingi had paid no mind to as a child, but with age he’s come to find how dearly he misses and craves to experience it again.

“Well, Yunho, there’s a bathroom just down this hallway where you can change into your dress. I’m going to do the laundry soon, so I can wash your clothes then if you’re alright with it.”

Yunho looks up at him with kindness in his eyes, a galaxy resting upon the apples of his cheeks and spreading to his pale pink lips. 

“You’re being very kind, Mingi. Why are you so kind to me? I have nothing to offer to anyone and I'm honestly quite useless...but you are still so welcoming and trust me well with your own home...”

“No one is useless,” Mingi assures him, lifting himself onto his heels and offering a kind hand to Yunho. “My fathers taught me that when I was a little boy. Everyone deserves to care and be cared for. I have to give you a chance, at the very least.” 

Yunho nods back at him in understanding, taking hold of the outstretched fingers that greet him. He holds Mingi’s hand with tenderness— the kind one would have after coming home from a long time being away. He gazes at their conjoined hands like they hold an important secret, one only he is privy to the existence of. When he looks back up at Mingi, that sense of wisdom doesn’t fade. Something in his expression looks upon Mingi as though this is exactly what he’d been looking for, and he’d finally found it right here.

Mingi supposes that living without a home will do that to you. Now he had a place to come back to, which was perhaps what he was searching for.

_Yes, of course,_ Mingi reasons with himself. _I offered him a roof and food for the time being, it’s only natural that he feels such a tender feeling towards me, right?_

_ Right. _

“The world would be a better place if people like you were in charge, Mingi.” Yunho smiles at him with the shine of moonlight embodied, irresistible to a fault and brilliantly intricate. Every little crease and curve creating the picture of his youthfulness that Mingi wishes he could encapsulate in a small bottle; hang it around a chain along the bends of his neck so that it’d always sit between the edges of his rib cage. 

“Maybe then, things wouldn’t be so bad.” Yunho muses. He lets go of Mingi’s hand then, slipping between the folds of his palm as he traipses down the hall and fades like a ghost into the unlit doorway of the bathroom.

Mingi feels the urge pull at him to tell Yunho of many things, though the thought stops dead in its tracks when he figures their first priority should be to talk of a proper meal.

-☼-  
  


Dressed in his plain azure sundress, Yunho joins Mingi for a short stroll past the gardens to familiarize himself with what will be his new home. In an opposing sense of gratefulness to Mingi’s saddened gaze, Yunho looks at every corner with possibility and promise. 

“We could have picnics here,” Yunho says gently. “And there’s a perfect spot to grow sunflowers just over there. If we put some love into it, this garden could be beautiful— not that it isn't! I mean no disrespect to you, I’m sure you tend to it all alone— but I think it could be something of magic and wonder. Just like the castles I’ve seen in the paper.” 

“The castle gardens? You want gardens like in the royal palace?” Mingi feels his curiosity pique with Yunho’s rambling, watching as the other scratches at the crown of his head and laughs. Light as air and as harmonious as the winds that blow Mingi awake, gently singing songs with their sound as Yunho does with his sunlit giggle.

“Well, yeah! Everyone envies such a beautiful place to live. Could you imagine such a thing? It’s probably twice the size of this estate!” Yunho makes a wild gesture around the building, steps light as he continues to barrel forward in heightened curiosity. Mingi watches his dress flow behind him, the ends reaching just above his knees and exposing the milk skin of his long legs. “But this estate is just beautiful as it is. I adore this place.”

Mingi smiles at that, following behind him quickly with his own skirt thumping lightly against his knees with the force of his steps. They talk a little more of the garden and all of Yunho’s wishes for it— his robustness shining through with each new bold suggestion that Mingi accepts readily. Despite being little more than a stranger for the past hour or so, Mingi’s learnt plenty from Yunho and what he has to offer. 

“It’s getting closer to supper time,” Mingi muses at the setting sun. “I don’t suppose you know what you’d like for dinner, would you?”

Yunho gives him a cheeky grin, lips upturned like a sly cat despite everything else about him being closer to a pup. 

“If it’s not too much to ask of you, do you know how to prepare pasta?”

-☼-  
  


A week or two passes like that— and then another, and another still. The sun rises and sets with Yunho by Mingi’s side, filling the space with sound and light even on the harshest of days.

Yunho acts as a friend that Mingi has known his entire life; comfortable and comforting in a manner Mingi’s never been quite used to. He had family even among the townsfolk, of course he did, but he’d never had a confidante such as this. Yunho prompted him to talk of his childhood memories and his hidden dreams that he’d abandoned, taking everything in stride, even as Mingi told him he was once a prince.

“It’s strange that you’re royalty,” Yunho murmurs. They currently lie on the floor of Mingi’s bedroom— no doubt the master of the former tenants, where the owner and her wife resided— atop the soft plush carpet. Mingi had taken to making them nightgowns that matched in pattern, his red and Yunho’s blue, and they cuddled deep into the fabric as they rested upon their sleeves. With their chins propped up on their folded arms, they stared deep at one another and told each other their secrets. 

“Do I not look to be the princely type?” Mingi giggles— a real, true giggle that he hasn’t made since his younger and more carefree days when his fathers would walk with him along the corridors of the castle. 

“No, it’s not that,” Yunho smiles. “You are more than fitting to be a gorgeous young prince. It’s your attitude— or I guess, lack thereof, right? You’re not haughty or self-absorbed.”

Mingi hums to that, moving closer towards Yunho as though subconsciously searching for his warmth. The room seems to grow colder with the move, settling him into the motive of moving even closer. They end up nearly bumping noses, personal space collided and melted into one. 

“You think I’m gorgeous?”

Yunho laughs loudly, unable to stop his nose from scrunching up as he quickly uncurls his body to place a palm above his open lips. Mingi watches him roll a little to the side with the change of position, his balance thrown to the wind as he continues to chuckle into his skin.

“God, Mingi! Of all things you could take from that, you choose to take the indirect compliment?” Yunho gives him a cheeky grin, eyes twinkling with a million stars as he gazes over Mingi’s facial features. There’s not a doubt within the prince’s mind that he’s being examined with ardour, something searching deep within the bed of Yunho’s irises. 

“Of course,” Mingi says softly. “It has been a long while since I’ve felt appreciated by anyone.”

Yunho frowns at that, the chase in his eyes simmering away as his look turns tender.

“Your castle...it was the kingdom of Aurora, wasn’t it?” 

Mingi smiles something sad, eyes downcast along the fuzz of their carpet. He brings a hand to toy with the soft woven material, humming to himself the smallest of affirmative tunes that Yunho sighs upon hearing.

“It was painful, wasn’t it? I heard...about what happened.” Yunho reaches out to him then, meeting halfway along the gorge that had formed between them, reassurance in his touch. “I can’t imagine losing all that you did, but you’re so incredibly strong for being here in front of me.”

_“Strong?”_ Mingi scoffs, tearing his hand away and tucking it back beneath his chin. “What’s _strong_ about me? I ran away from my people. I practically stole this estate and now I live here, napping under the sun with someone who likes me just because I feed him.”

Silence reopens that gorge between them, tearing the bridge Yunho had built apart into millions of pieces and sinking it down to the bottom with the force of gravity. There’s an abundance of pure nothing, and Mingi is too scared to fill the space anymore with something besides the disappointment and shame he’s brought upon himself.

Perhaps this was a deeper seated fear. This acknowledgment— this self-realization of what he’d done and how it affected his people— the understanding that he really was no different from the haughty royals, no matter how far away he’d tried to run. All his life, hiding behind the love he had for his parents and his kingdom. But it could never be enough to keep them safe. It was never enough to stop them from rotting away.

“Mingi,” Yunho calls to him. His voice is soft and melancholy, begging for Mingi to look at him despite the painful things he’d just said. He insulted him, and for nothing else in his life does Mingi feel so much regret. 

“Mingi, I know you don’t mean it,” Yunho says. “You’re a good man, I know you are. That’s what makes you so different from other princes. Your love is plentiful, and your good will endless. A narcissistic and cowardly man would possess neither, Mingi— much less in such excess.”

“I can’t fix it,” Mingi hisses. “ _That_ is what makes me a poor prince— I cannot fix what was done. I am not enough; I never have been and never will be, don’t you see that? That’s what makes me a horrible ruler. I cannot even be half the man one of my father’s was.”

Yunho sighs at that, leaning in quickly and capturing one of Mingi’s hands into his own. He looks at him with discipline, stern and demanding of his respect. Mingi gives it to him readily, eyes quaking beneath the looming presence of Yunho’s figure.

“Your fathers were great rulers because they had one another to rely on. When they passed, who did you have to rely on, hm? Whose shoulder did you take up and cry upon during the late nights? Who cared for you when it all came crumbling down, Mingi?”

“They shouldn’t have to, I’m the one who should be comforting them—”

_“No,”_ Yunho growls, silencing Mingi at once. “They were _your_ fathers. They were more than kings to you— more than anything they’d ever been to anyone else. They were your role models and your family, and with their passing you were left alone in the world to abruptly fend for yourself. How is that fair to you at all?”

Mingi feels his eyes tear up, the memories of nights when he’d stayed up alone and cried his heart out suddenly taking up residence within his mind. Long days of trying to mentally and emotionally placate the worried and frenzied minds of his people, holding them down with his own two hands and convincing them that the end of their war was near. Only to slide against his empty hall, falling at the end of the day into a quiet puddle of tears. Calling to stars and gods and the fates of the next universe over that things would settle— that his fathers would just _come back._

“What you did might not have been the princely thing to do,” Yunho says softly, “but it was undeniably human. You deserve respite as much as anyone else, and I’m sure that the people agree that they do not hate you for stepping away. You were one man bested by dozens, Mingi. The fact that you held on long enough to see their proper division shows how strongly you have cared.”

Mingi lets the tears spill over, silent in his grief as he mourns all that he’s done or failed to do. Yunho tips forward on the bends of his forearms and places a single arm around Mingi’s neck, tugging him closer to find solace within the crook of Yunho’s body. He nuzzles his nose deep into the soft expanse of Yunho’s skin, his neck tilted away just enough for Mingi to make his space there as he sobs, uncaring for the lack of grace and stability in this moment.

And Yunho holds him through it, his warm hand trailing the pads of his fingers against Mingi’s scalp. He scratches lightly at the base before trailing away into long rakes through the soft locks. He’s patient, endlessly so, as Mingi continues to sob.

“It’s alright,” he shushes him, “it’s okay. It will all be fine.”

“I— I should have saved them,” Mingi cries, voice broken in a ghost of his heart that was shattered to pieces. “I could have done— could have _changed_ something. They died and what was left of the legacy went to ruins because of me.”

“That’s not true, hush,” Yunho snips at him. “What they left behind Mingi, was love. Love, and you. Your people will never forget their kindness, and neither will you. They left you behind as their mark on the world, and look at you now.”

“I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”

Yunho shakes his head against him, the ruffling of his soft locks tickling Mingi’s ear. “No, Mingi. You’re a survivor. You’re still here despite what’s happened to you.”

When Mingi pulls away from Yunho’s neck, he finds eyes of worship staring back at him, picking apart his deepest vulnerabilities and stringing them together as a shield, creating a home of weakness that was indestructible. He gives Mingi that same smile that glimmers in moonlight— through now it bared more intimate similarities than Mingi had ever thought to make. Like the way the light caught in that all-knowing, exposé manner. The way it hinted at the knowledge of all, the lack of none, and the absence of all flaws. Yunho’s smile says it plain and clear, as though the words had existed long within Mingi before Yunho could ever speak them.

But he does, anyway.

“You are much more tender than you let on, young prince. Even more than you may know. But you shouldn’t be scared to show those things— not to me. Never to me.”

With the gentlest press, Yunho places a chaste and innocent kiss atop Mingi’s forehead, intending nothing but sweet and warming feelings behind it as he backs away.

“You are still a good prince to me. You always will be.”

Mingi is far from knowing everything, conceding to the fate that he never will, but he feels this all the same. This spark of what was once a dying ember, rising like the tide and creating a ruckus among the shore after so long of dormancy.

Like the hint of another firework, forever ready to create a lasting image along the sky regardless of the way it will fizzle out.

Mingi knows that in some way— someday in his future, wherever it might lay— he will be a prince once more. 

-☼-  
  


The intimacy between the two of them continues to grow with the passage of time.

The talks of Yunho moving away die quickly soon thereafter, instead settled with plans for events many years in the future. They entertain the idea of many other futures, each equally as enticing and encouraged as the next. It becomes a pastime to envision what life could be like a few years on down the road— ranging from their estate being reclaimed by the previous tenants and the two of them being forced into the wandering lifestyle to rebuilding Mingi’s monarchy, reigning as a king in honor of his fathers. 

But regardless, in every iteration they are together.

“Those tomatoes have ripened quite nicely,” Yunho muses, “shall we make something with them tonight?”

Mingi hums his affirmative, attention paid in a bounty to the fabric between his fingers, carefully being sewn piece for piece as he goes. 

“I’m glad you’ve dedicated time to spicing these up a little,” Yunho says sweetly. “The lace collars have been a very sweet touch.”

Mingi laughs at that, staring up at Yunho as he plays with his own lace. “It’s helped me get some practice in too, I’m sure my father would be proud if he saw how little I stab myself by now.”

Yunho smiles at him, reaching down to the piece between Mingi’s hands and caressing it gently. His smile turns saddened, though he pulls away before it becomes overwhelmingly so.

“I think he would be, too. I’m sure the both of them would.”

Though the words are sweet, Mingi places the fabric down onto the table before him and looks at Yunho with worry.

“Is something the matter? You look...really bummed out.”

Yunho is quick to shift from a sad smile to a more upbeat one, though it’s far less genuine and instead looks like a plastic mask was plastered on top of his natural features. The smile hugs his skin in a way Mingi’s not familiar with, too used to the radiance Yunho pours without trying.

“I’m alright; just nostalgic right now, I think.” Yunho shrugs his broad shoulders, his figure cutting a stiff rectangular shape with the way he stands like a sharp mannequin. Mingi presses a hand to the palm of his lower back, hand slipping beneath the thick cloth of Yunho’s button up and scraping his fingernails along the waistband of his skirt. It makes the other shift a little in his spot, taken aback by the intimate touch. Their touches still remain wholesome despite the flirtatious air. This touch right now was pushing their boundaries of comfort.

“I don’t think you’re alright,” Mingi pouts at him, arching a brow. “You seem sad. Your entire body seems sad, in fact. What’s wrong?” 

Yunho pulls away from him, ears tinged that same lipstick-stain red that’d been there the day he and Mingi first met. It had been a long while since Mingi saw such an aggressive form of the blush reappear on Yunho’s body. 

“It’s nothing, I just…”

Mingi watches as Yunho gnaws on his bottom lip, contemplation running thick through the glistening rivers of his eyes. They dart left to right in an anxious fashion as his fingers begin to press together in front of him. He resembles the youthful boy Mingi caught in his kitchen, though by now that behavior was a few months dead and gone. They were closer to Autumn now than they’d been to any season then; the same could be said for their magnetization to one another.

“You know that when you met me, I was without a place to call my own, right?” Yunho gazes down at Mingi as though he’d forget, completely ignorant to the previous knowledge that Yunho had been homeless and starving for a while. Mingi only nods at him dumbly, confused at such an obvious question being asked of him.

“I have never told you _why_ I was a nomad,” Yunho sighs. “Just that I was one.”

Mingi raises both of his eyebrows at that, interest piqued stronger than it's ever been. He makes a show of leaning into Yunho like he’s going to be told the world’s largest secret— which perhaps, if things played out strangely enough, he could.

“I’m scared of what you’ll think of me once you know,” Yunho respires. “I don’t want to lose what I have because of what once was. Will you promise to forever stay kind to me?”

Mingi smiles at him with that, head caught in a fervent nod to Yunho’s request. How could Mingi ever treat him with anything but kindness? Yunho was a puplike boy with eternal youth embedded into the fabric of his very being— all things innocent and loving in the world. He brought back Mingi’s lively demeanor and made the most mundane of things pass with excitement. He was one of the very few treasures still left untouched in the world, and Mingi couldn’t fathom the concept of being anything but kind to that.

“Okay. We should relocate to a softer place to sit; we’ll probably be there for a few hours.”

Mingi watches Yunho fidget harder, doe-eyes even rounder than normal in a way Mingi hadn’t thought possible. The soft man before him looked so nervous, so tensed up and unwelcome in his own home, that Mingi felt an inappropriate sense of anger flare within him.

The same kind of feeling that flared when Mingi had first seen Yunho’s satchel laying there on the side of his kitchen entryway. The feeling of something he loved being threatened and mistreated by those who cared less for it.

And maybe that’s why Mingi offers to make them a cup of tea, something for Yunho to hold onto and sip from in the middle of his explanation in hopes it’d lessen his nerves. Surprisingly, the other takes him up on the offer with gratitude, more than likely seeing Mingi’s hidden motive plain as day. 

“I’ll bring them in a bit,” Mingi says gently, “you go find a comfortable space to talk and I’ll meet you there.”

Yunho nods to him, non verbal and more than likely planning to stay that way until his time of elucidation would come. Mingi wonders what could possibly shake Yunho up so much that his normal sunny demeanor could grow despondent in such a short amount of time. In a way, it was like being back within his gardens and watching the way everything died away in late Autumn. That intricate and extravagant place of greenery that was tended to by only the best of botanists still succumbing to the harsh lull of Winter. It had always baffled little Mingi’s mind, and at the moment it feels as though nothing’s changed.

Even the brightest and most sacred of things could decay within seconds, slipping from between Mingi’s grasp as they shrunk to an invisible side between his fingertips, suddenly nothingness.

Suddenly lonely. 

He shakes away his impending fear in favor of preparing the tea he’d promised. Just a simple tea with lemon that was zesty enough to make them suckle on the juice periodically, their tongues jumping with a childlike flavor that reignited youth. It was one of Yunho’s favorites and Mingi had come to grow a modest addiction for it in turn, always drinking it alongside his friend as they shared mundane talks of things that mattered less than even the way the lavender was growing in their small floral garden. 

And in a way, Mingi had hoped this would be no different. Just he and Yunho talking of something light and airy until it was too weightless to carry on, slipping away with the clouds before the next topic could drift along within the high winds.

He prayed, deep down, that the fear of loss could never be justified again. Mingi had all the world to lose, even more so now than he did when he was in charge of an entire kingdom.

He wonders why.

  
  


When Mingi finds Yunho, he’s propped against one of the rails on the bay window in the study room, which had long since been turned into a makeshift room for dance and play. On occasion, the only studying Mingi got done was re-reading Yunho’s pocket book in that very seat, sometimes reciting it aloud to the other as he drifted to slumber on the other side.

Now, though, he stared at the outside like a predator— anticipating the movement of something in their gardens that would surely never come. Mingi had sent for an old friend of his, a royal advisor named San, to retrieve information on the previous tenants, but he’d likely not be showing himself for at least another couple of days. Beyond that, no one knew of this estate out here.

“Yunho,” he calls to him softly, temper measured as he settles onto the opposite site of the window’s seat. Yunho snaps his eyes up to him in a look of shock, as though he’d even had a reason to not expect him. “Your tea?”

“Ah,” the other gasps. “Right! The tea, yeah.”

Mingi snorts, handing it to him gently and watching as it makes the smallest clink within his palms, clattering lightly even when he gets a good hold.

_He’s shaking,_ Mingi thinks. _Why is he shaking?_

“Yunho, are you alright? You seem—”

“I used to be a thief,” Yunho blurts out.

The silence between them grows potent, Mingi’s eyes expanding to the point where his irises have begun to quake and his temples ache something horrid. 

The information seeps down past his bones and into his stomach, stirring the acids like the tides of a raging ocean. He was nothing short of livid, but his preexisting lesson of poise did much to stop him from striking Yunho right across his cheek.

“...Why?” Is all Mingi can ask, tone taut and betrayed.

Yunho looks downwards like a sullen dog, reprimand clutching his normal boyishness and strangling it tightly. This was a turning point they could never come back from, and either they moved from here as closer friends or distant enemies.

But Mingi hopes, by some good-will miracle, that the latter would become impossible.

“In the beginning, it was for my family,” Yunho murmurs. “We lived in the kingdom of Crescent, and _you know—_ you are so very aware of what it’s like there, aren’t you?”

Mingi does know. Knows it so well he could trace the pictures of war behind his closed eyelids— sometimes does, when he sees them in his nightmares. 

Crescent was the first kingdom to start an uprising against Aurora, after all.

“The gap between classes is too large,” Yunho says, there’s a certain desperation that tints it in the shade of a cry. Like the yellowing grass and the rotting fruit Mingi had become so accustomed to. “Lower classes live in poverty— we can’t pay for a thing. Everything is too expensive or too far out of reach for us. Crescent likes to show its riches and its exuberance like it has it in bunches, but in truth it’s only the few people on the top who have such luxuries. The rest of us are left to fight over scraps.”

“So you stole to benefit your family?” Mingi asks, voice unintentionally harsh. Yunho flinches with timidity, cheeks a crimson red and lips gnawed until they puffed between his teeth.

“I stole to make ends meet, yes. But then I...made a habit of it.” Yunho plays with the fabric of his dress, the lace at the hem of it unfinished as Mingi worked on it day to day. Sometimes Yunho would sit obediently still and allow Mingi to sew it right atop his body, legs strewn across in vulnerability along the prince’s lap.

It was moments of such intimacy that made it so hard for Mingi to swallow this reality. That someone so gentle and kindhearted could have done something as far down the trenches of morality as stealing.

“I stole from bigger places to get my family much nicer things. It was only my mother, brother and I and I wanted them to have a life of normalcy.” The other licks his lips, eyes darting around to avoid the way they fill with unshed tears of shame. “I stole dresses for my mother and books for my brother so he could learn to read— toys and jewelry and things they’d wanted so desperately but could not afford. I began to create the illusion I had a steady and well-paying job in the capital, and people bought it. And then...others asked if I could spare a dime for food or clothing.”

The picture begins to form itself slowly in Mingi’s head— exactly what Yunho was implying. The tale of Robin Hood had been a distant memory in a small prince’s mind somewhere; perhaps when he was of the age to still need assistance with brushing his teeth and combing his hair— but it was present no less. 

Yunho had stolen for the sake of everyone around him. Yunho had stolen to make other’s lives better.

And as selfish an act as stealing has always been, Mingi could find no selfishness in the thief before him.

“I stole only from people who had excess,” Yunho continues. “I stole from bakers who’d throw out their unsold bread. I stole from tailors who threw away the clothing they thought was out of fashion. I stole from people who didn’t want what others needed— and I’d not thought even once that I would be caught.”

“But you were?” Mingi finds himself breathless, holding an anticipation deep within his lungs. A certain sense of hesitancy— that deeper wish that Yunho had made it out unscathed, as though he weren’t before him now in one piece.

But Mingi knew better than to assume his safety was limited to how well his body could move. Knew all too well of the deeper pains that could plague Yunho at night like restless ghosts, wandering about with neither home nor purpose. 

“I was.”

The air turns solemn, stray tears falling away from Yunho’s eyes as though he could see the remnants of hurt behind them.

Mingi knows in this exact moment that they were one and the same— forever scarred by things they’d wished they could have done over. Things they regret. Things they would feel worthless for being unable to fix.

_‘But you shouldn’t be scared to show those things— not to me. Never to me.’_

“They had entered my home when I was gone; out doing what, I’m not sure I’ll ever remember clearly. The guards were ruthless, you know. They went for my brother first, tried to grab at him despite how small he was. He was just a _child,_ Mingi. He was seven years old and afraid. My mother had tried to protect him and they—”

He sucks a breath in, eyes shut tight and spilling even faster than before. Mingi shushes him, understanding perfectly well the feeling of what they’d done without even a word needing to be said. He reaches over to pull the other in between the space of his legs, allowing them to settle together with Yunho’s head nuzzled into his neck and shaking with tears.

“I don’t know what they did to Jongho,” Yunho cries. “They could have taken him, for all I know. They left my mother there to die and I could do nothing. She cried the entire time, Mingi. She cried for me and for my brother. She was dying in my arms and all she could think of was whether or not she’d be leaving behind the means for us to live.”

Mingi says nothing, holding Yunho tighter and stroking apart his black locks as the other cries softly. Mingi rocks them back and forth gently, a thing his fathers had done for him when he was a child. Rocking him back and forth and singing him the song of a boat swaying peacefully along the way to its shore, promising it’d come back safe and sound.

An empty promise, by now. With all that they’d both lost, there was no hope for such a promise to be reality— for such a happy ending to be theirs.

“You ran away after that, didn’t you?” Mingi whispers the question into the crown of the other’s head, feeling it twitch to nod below him.

“I had nothing left and I didn’t want to cause anyone there any more pain. I took what little I had and ran away in hopes of finding a better life. I vowed to myself that I would find Jongho and raise him on my own, but it proved to be impossible when nothing was available to me to even find out if he was alive.”

“So then—” Mingi lifts Yunho’s head a little bit from his shoulder— “Why come here?”

“Simple,” Yunho smiles sadly. “I was looking for a better life. Your kingdom was always known for having exactly what mine needed— equality, and kindness. _Mercy._

“But by the time I’d come, I heard of what happened. I was in too many in-between towns with little connection to any kingdoms, so I’d no idea of the war until I was on the outskirts here. When I found out...well, by then I was just ready to put my satchel down anywhere and call it home.”

Mingi laughs at that, soft and quiet and doing little to fill the space between them, but at least with the small semblance of joy. “That’s how we met, isn’t it?”

Yunho nods again, gazing into Mingi’s eyes and glancing away with shame.

“I stumbled in here looking for a place to stay, and you gave that to me readily based on trust. I’m sorry if I’ve destroyed it by telling you what’s happened in my past.”

Mingi shakes his head to that, leaning forward and tapping their foreheads together in a small ghost of what Yunho had done for him. Indeed, his past was the largest stray away from Mingi’s positive expectations and came second to none in shocking him— but he was no longer disappointed. He understood what Yunho had done, at least from a moral standpoint. Mingi knew very few people who had to scratch and claw to live the way Yunho had done, but he wasn’t naïve enough to be blinded by privilege. He knew very well that not everyone was even a quarter fortunate, and he knew that that was a driving force to be a good ruler. To give the lesser fortunate good fortune. To help people like Yunho on a daily basis. 

“I am sorry that your past had been the way it was,” Mingi breathes. “I’d take it all away if I could— give you a good home and a better life. For you and your family. Riches, and wealth and warmth...a garden to roam with your mother and play with your little brother. If it was up to me, you’d have had all those things.”

“I don’t need any of those things,” Yunho smiles at him. “Not anymore, at least. Now, all I’d like to do is find Jongho and have a proper burial for my mother.”

Mingi nods, eyes teary as he stares at Yunho’s soft face. In the face of pain and adversity, had Yunho ever done anything but smile his way through it? Had Yunho ever once been selfish?

_ ‘...and with their passing you were left alone in the world to abruptly fend for yourself. How is that fair to you at all?’ _

“I will see to it,” Mingi says with clenched teeth— his body in a sudden urge to smother Yunho in sunlight and watch his body glimmer in gold. Desire flourishes within him; a kind he’s never felt before even once. “That all of those things are done for you.”

And when Yunho’s smile grows, Mingi’s smothered feelings are finally set free.

-☼-  
  


San arrives within the coming days, when the weather is pouring and he is nearly soaked to the bone save for a raincoat along his back. He looks unperturbed by the weather, laughing joyfully as Mingi allows him to step into his house and shake himself dry of some of the dripping rain.

“It was a whirlwind out there, you should have seen it!” San hollers. Mingi shakes his head in amusement as San regards the weather like it was any pleasant, despite standing in his living room looking halfway to death by an incoming bout of the flu.

“You’re going to get sick this way, one of these days.” Despite the chastising, San only pouts and plops himself in front of the fireplace, hands held out to absorb the heat.

“Quit your yapping! I’ll be fine— I survive Wooyoung on a daily basis, you think I can’t handle a little storm?”

They both snort at that, shaking their heads before Mingi turns towards a shuffle in the doorway.

There, he sees Yunho peeping just around the corner, lips upturned in a secretive smile as though he’s impossible to see. The edges of his violet polo dress swaying just beyond the doorway.

“Come in!” Mingi calls at him horrendously loud, startling both the hiding boy and the advisor in front of his fireplace, who starts cackling at the sight of Yunho’s large body attempting to be secretive.

“Sorry,” Yunho says sheepishly, stepping in and rubbing at his hair. “I wasn’t sure if I should intrude or not.”

“It’s not intruding,” San says happily. “Mingi’s told me all about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet— ah, what was it you said? _The pretty boy with the starry little bear eyes._ Yes, that’s it.”

“San!” Mingi reprimands, watching Yunho turn a bright shade of red even as he snickers behind his hand.

“You think I have bear eyes?” He says, tilting his head to the side and watching as Mingi’s complexion fills with ruddiness to meet his own.

“Of all that you could have taken from that, you really want to take the comparison of you to an animal?”

San clears his throat theatrically, watching as they both turn to him with embarrassed flushes.

“Now that you’ve stopped _flirting—_ ” San rolls his eyes— “I’ve actually brought information that’d be useful to you both. I think even you will have something to gain from it, Yunho.”

At the mention of his name, Yunho settles down into one of the many seats in their living room, still as stiff and rigid as he’d been the very first time Mingi had met him. Mingi takes a seat too, considerably more languid in position, but listening all the same as he motions for San to carry on.

“Well, it was exactly as you’d suspected, of course. Lovely couple, two women named Hyunjin and Heejin— I was actually friends with them, a while back! Didn’t take me along to find that information, so I was going to come right away— but then I saw something else.”

He pulls a paper from his pocket, producing the newspaper clippings of a small paragraph-long story and the picture of a little boy.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a certain young lad named Jeong Jongho, would you now?”

  
  


For the first ten minutes, Yunho remains perfectly still. He’s unresponsive to any calls of his name, and when Mingi finally gets up to put his hand on his shoulder, the other bursts into tears.

“What!” San jumps up from his spot, rushing over and panicking as Mingi holds Yunho’s hands between his own, kneeling before him and allowing him to cry freely. 

“Did I scare you or something?” San asks, “You okay?”

Yunho shakes his head, trying to catch his breath between his sobs as he leans forward to bump his head into Mingi’s chest.

“It’s— It’s an obituary, isn’t it? _God,_ he’s gone missing, hasn’t he? Is he— Is he really gone?”

San looks at him with bewilderment, settling into an empathetic smile as he drops down to a knee.

“I think you should get a look at this first,” San says, voice sweet as honey as he shows the small clipping to Yunho. He settles it gently in the bed of Yunho’s hands, still spread open wide between Mingi’s as he cups them. “It might help you understand.”

Indeed, as they both gaze down at the clipping, their eyes widen.

In the photo is a picture of two young boys— one of stocky build who has Yunho’s same little bear eyes, cheeks as round and nose as cutely scrunched. He’s a spitting image of his older brother and Mingi has no doubts on him being Yunho’s sibling. The other is a thin boy with light hair, face splotched with a little red smear that goes from the outer edge of his eye to the corners of his cheek and temple. They’re holding hands, smiling brightly as they carry little boxes of fruit and toys.

“ _‘Little boys with big hearts aim to make a difference’_ ,” Yunho reads aloud. “ _Inspired by their family members and looking to make a change after the recent war, young orphans Jeong Jongho and Kang Yeosang are giving back to the community with the help of local bakeries and grocers_ …” 

_“Yunho,”_ Mingi breathes, “Jongho is doing this because of _you._ Because of your influence.”

Yunho’s eyes spill quicker than before, but he doesn’t sob— doesn’t so much as move to get his eyes off of the paper despite how sodden it’s slowly become with his tears. Even as the ink blurs and the paper threatens to tear apart at the edges, he continues to stare down at it.

“San,” Yunho asks politely, watching as the other gives him a sweetly knowing grin.

“We can get you both there within the next day and a half,” San sighs, standing to stretch apart his bones. “All you need to do is pack a bag.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/sanniedaize) I'd love to make some writer/reader friends!
> 
> Comments and kudos aren't necessitated, but very much appreciated! :) They always make my day. If you want to, feel free to leave some so that I know you enjoyed it.
> 
> -n.


	2. II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! 
> 
> Tried to stay true to my promise of updating as quick as possible, so here I am.
> 
> Not much to say except: heed the new tags! There is smut in this chapter, so if you want to skip that then look for the "-☆☼☆-" break and move past it! The next break after that will be the end of the nsfw scene.
> 
> Still not really proof-read either, I apologize...^^;;
> 
> Enjoy :)
> 
> -n.

Mingi watches Yunho silently as he flutters around the room, steps light and purposeful like a butterfly stringing along the harshest wind current. He packs away some of the newer dresses Mingi has made, complete with buttons and lace and of all the fabrics that Yunho had ogled when they’d stopped by the linen shops, face aglow and aura unstoppable.

All things considered, Mingi finds the sight to be rather appetizing.

“This must be quite the moment for you, isn’t it?” Mingi muses, leaning against the doorway and crossing his legs underneath the fabric of his empire dress. It was a floral pattern composed of a palette of yellows and reds— the kinds that reminded him of Yunho and his face pressed into the grass, blending with the patches of buttercups they’d begun to grow. In many ways, Yunho had become a part of the world around him, and as pleasant as it’s been a part of him still continues to linger in doubt.

“It is!” Yunho turns only a second to say, turning right back to continue stuffing his small satchel to the brim. With time and patience, Mingi had become an excellent hand-sewer and had even managed to stitch up the poor bag with similarly colored thread. It was far from new or polished, but it functioned well all the same and made Yunho surprisingly happy when Mingi gifted it to him.

“Yunho, do you think we could bring…”

When Yunho looks back at him, ethereal and deserving of all the world’s goodwill and fortune, Mingi finds his mouth goes dry.

“Nothing,” the prince says with a light smile. “I’ll tell you later, I think I’ve got it figured out.”

Yunho shrugs his shoulders at that, letting go of the situation.

And unknowingly, letting go of Mingi.

-☼-  
  


The weather proves to be against them from the very beginning of the trip.

San had, fortunately, the mild conscience to bring along an empty carriage for Mingi and Yunho to ride in once he’d gotten the news of Jongho’s appearance. How he knew Yunho was related to Jongho at all still remained a mystery to both the prince and the former thief, but they’d made no mention of it since then and followed the advisor’s lead dutifully. He’d take the horse up front and steer the carriage the entire way, telling the two they could use their free time along the trip to do as they pleased within the carriage.

(“Just no sexual escapades,” San had huffed. “Especially while we are on the road! That carriage is unfortunately one of the lesser soundproof ones. Trust me, I would know.”

They had gone bright red and batted him away, but at the very least Mingi knew that if he wanted to get back at San for everything, he could moan obnoxiously loud in the middle of the night to startle him.)

Yunho had taken to rereading his copy of Romeo and Juliet for a time unbeknownst to Mingi, who decided to dedicate his time in the study of beautiful sights— like the brooding nature that passed by them, and Yunho’s eyelashes as they fanned like wings along his cheeks.

“You truly love that book, don’t you?” Mingi asks him quietly, sure to not startle Yunho but convince him to gaze upwards. From the way his head is positioned towards his book, the upwards glance he spares is something unlike anything Mingi’s ever been privileged to see— a type of curious hunger; predatorial eyes that are naturally round but in this moment seem sharp and biting.

“Mm, it’s actually rather sad,” Yunho sighs. When his head tilts up, the hunger in his gaze goes away, instead showcasing his naturally soft and gentle curves. He gives Mingi a sweetheart smile; the kind that Mingi thinks would make for a fine princely picture. The kind that could make the image of a beloved king.

“I don’t like sad books,” Yunho says with a laugh, “but this was one of the first books I’d ever properly owned. My mother purchased it for me with the remaining change she had. It was one of the only birthday gifts I’d ever received and I still treasure it for that exact reason.”

Mingi feels his lips curl upwards with endearment, watching Yunho cradle his little pocketbook. It had pages upon pages constantly dog-eared and unfolded repeatedly, making the corners fray in weakness. There were stains and rips and the spine was beginning to tear apart, but Yunho held it preciously all the same.

“That’s lovely,” the prince says instead. “To be that gentle with something you love and still appreciate it after all this time. You are very kind hearted.”

Yunho makes a show of his hand coming across his smile, covering it as he giggles harshly enough to nearly topple over. Mingi wishes then that they’d sat next to one another, so that Yunho could be tipping into him— into his side, sharing his warmth and searing Mingi with his delicate floral touch. 

“I wish they’d had a happy ending,” Yunho says when he emerges from his laughing fit. “If only they could love each other even in a world full of adversity...how nice would that be?”

His eyes look wistful as he fixes them upon Mingi’s form, a rhetorical question suddenly demanding an answer with just one simple look. 

“Yeah,” Mingi sighs. “How nice such a reality would be."

-☼-  
  


After only a few hours of mildly rocky travels, Yunho falls asleep with his book in his lap, cradling it between long fingers that make the small book look even smaller. Mingi notices the way he begins to slump against his seat, his book slowly trailing down the expanse of his thigh and threatening to slide onto the floor.

_It’s just to keep it from falling,_ he thinks as he moves to the other side of the carriage. _It’s just to keep him from sliding further down,_ he thinks as he lifts the book from Yunho’s lap and places it back into his bag, taking the boy and resting his head along his shoulder. _It’s just to keep him warm and comfortable,_ he convinces himself as he brings one of Yunho’s twitching hands into his own, cradling it tenderly and rubbing his thumb into one of the softer patches of Yunho’s milk skin.

He continues to sit like that, examining the way Yunho slumbers peacefully with his hair ruffled slightly and his plump cheeks puffing breathes of light air. He seems at one with a dormant nature that had yet to exist, the outside still rumbling with rough shouts of wind and the ever-looming clouds of another storm. San had sent a small wish towards mother nature to lie indecisively between destruction and deference, so as to not catch them in a difficult place at the wrong time. 

Inside, regardless, Yunho continued to paint the portrait of a perfect world with the simple way he breathes his air in rest. Mingi had never seen someone sleep with such respite, but then again Mingi had little clue as to how much Yunho really held secretly on his shoulders.

He looks to the copy of Romeo and Juliet that he’d tucked away, the edge still sticking out of the bag haphazardly. His arms are just long enough to reach for it with a subtle bend, careful not to jostle Yunho atop his shoulder. 

His warmth burns into his side as he flips the page open to the most recent dog-ear, finding a little passage circled and surrounded by lead-drawn stars. 

“ _I fear too early,_ ” Mingi reads in a quiet whisper, “ _for my mind misgives; Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, shall bitterly begin._ ”

He looks towards Yunho’s form and brings a hand to stroke one of his puffed cheeks, thumb caught in place as he studies him.

“I wonder,” he whispers to him like a secret, “if you think this will end in tragedy too?”

Yunho nudges against his palm as though in a silent answer, nuzzling closer to the warmth of Mingi’s body and latching around him like the Aurora lights of Mingi’s home. Ever-protecting, ever calm, infinitely expanding in beauty despite the harshness of the rest of the world. That beacon of light that continues to exist despite the way everything beneath it chooses to collapse for power and greed.

Mingi muses just by the hair of Yunho’s head, burying his lips for a hundred little butterfly kisses. “How nice it would be to have such a sweet ending, right? Growing a garden in an estate, raising a child, living happily...”

_‘With you’_ goes unsaid. 

-☼-  
  


San informs them after Yunho awakens that the storm headed their way was coming much quicker than anticipated, meaning they’d need to stop for the night and find an appropriate place to brave the storm in their carriage.

Yunho had— in a true selfless fashion— worried for San’s horse the most. The advisor had merely laughed and told him a quick list of accomplishments the beauty had gone through strongly, making Yunho stare wide-eyed as he gave the horse a couple of timid brushes in gratitude and respect. After that, San had directed them to a nearby natural hot spring where Yunho could bathe for the evening and come back safely. Mingi had encouraged him to go first, to which the taller had reluctantly conceded and trailed away with another dress in hand.

“Your change of attire has been quite interesting,” San says when they’re alone, studying Mingi’s dress and giving him a sly smile. “Seems your old man really rubbed off on you, hm? It’s a welcome change to all those stuffy suits you used to hate.”

Mingi laughs at that, well aware of the memories he and San had together where they complained about their expected attire. The both of them had an aversion to the tight fabric that caged their legs in, talking long and animatedly of their annoyances with the ridiculously crafted linens. 

“I’ve gotten much better with it over time.” Mingi makes a show of a twirl, the hem of his dress lifting up to expose his long heeled boots and the differing fabric that was on the inner side. “Thanks to Yunho allowing me to do just about anything to his dresses, I’ve learnt enough sewing skills to become a tailor.”

San hums at that, amused by Mingi’s confession and nodding his head. “Wouldn’t be such a bad way of life. You and your boy could survive just off of the income from that.”

_“My boy?”_ Mingi turns a cherry red. 

“Ah, is that too crass?” San laughs heartily, a hand resting along his abdomen as he smiles in a fox-like manner. “I suppose ‘love’ is better, right?”

Mingi whines at that too, head placed in his hands as San continues to laugh at him.

“No need to be shy, prince! I see what you two have going on,” San wriggles his brows as though it says all he needs to say, making Mingi blush further at the implication.

“Yunho and I aren’t...like that...”

San stops in his place, smile dropping along with his raised shoulders. He looks at Mingi as though he’s gone mad.

“Sorry? You and Yunho aren’t…?” He makes a movement with his hands, clasping them together in a manner that Mingi thinks is supposed to resemble a relationship.

He shakes his head.

“I hear the chorus of mother nature crying at this very moment,” San sighs dramatically. “You’re even more hopeless than I thought. Are gay men good for absolutely nothing?”

“You’re a gay man,” Mingi pouts. “And I’ve never loved anyone before. It’s difficult for me to wrap my head around this at all.”

San gives him a soft smile at that, understanding embedded in his stare as he does a once-over of Mingi’s body.

“I imagine it’s scary for you, but I’ve a good feeling about this one. You should confess your love to him, see what he has to say.”

Mingi shrugs his shoulders at that. “Perhaps soon, when I’ve prepared something coherent to say—“

_“No,”_ San whines. “Do it now!”

Mingi gawks at him, his body’s temperature nearly searing the fabric of his dress right off of his flesh. He can sense the way his stomach twists and his bones tremble below the muscle inside of him. 

“ _Now?_ Are you _mad?_ Yunho’s bathing— and I have no idea what to say! I’ll make a fool of myself, and he’ll never want to love a fool.”

San’s smile returns with its normal mischievous stain, amused to no end at Mingi’s panicked expression as he fumbles through his words.

“Bathing together is an intimate act, simply tell him you wish to join him! The rest will unfold from there, I promise.”

“San,” Mingi hisses, “I’ve never even slept in the same bed as him.”

“And yet, you are about to confess your undying love to him as you both bare your entire bodies to one another. Romantic!”

Mingi continues to stare at him with confusion, eyes threatening to bulge out of his head with how much they’ve widened. He suddenly feels San’s strong hands around his arms, pushing him in the direction of the natural hot springs.

“You go confess, and do not even think of coming back until you’re sorted as a couple.” San’s grip tightens in a soft threat, making Mingi go lax against him in mild fear. San might have the proportions of a delicate hourglass and the demeanor of a lazy fox, but he was incredibly strong and deft beyond measure. Mingi has no doubt he’d lose to him in hand-to-hand combat. 

“You promise this will work?” Mingi whispers over his shoulder, feeling San’s hands against his shoulder blades as they lighten up. It’s mainly Mingi taking the reins now, leading himself towards what could very well be his untimely demise. 

“I promise,” San whispers back to him. “Trust in me, and trust in Yunho.”

With that, Mingi feels him give a single push. He looks back at San who’s retreated to their parked carriage, giving him a small wave as the prince takes a deep breath— body leading him step for step towards the unknown.

-☼-  
  


The first thing Mingi is greeted by is copious amounts of mist.

_Of course,_ he thinks to himself. _It’s a hot spring, it’s hot._

For some reason, a foolish part of him thought it would be crystal clear and he’d see Yunho just over the bend of the small hill, bathing in crisp daylight without a single care atop his shoulders. Evidently, it was probably more comfortable with the mist blanketing them, hiding the bathing boy below the soft breath of a thick sodden air. 

But it also meant that Mingi could not see Yunho. Which meant he’d have to call to him to even figure where he was in the vast basin of warm water.

“Yunho?” He calls quietly, expecting no response back beyond the echo of his voice. True to his assumption, the only thing he hears in the lull of silence is the soft ripping of the natural current.

“Yunho!” He tries again, suddenly hearing a thick slosh of something coming closer to him. His natural instinct wants him to brace— for an enemy or an attack, though he realizes it’s a pointless twist of his gut when the mist clears up the slightest bit and reveals Yunho soaked shoulder deep, swimming closer with little strokes until he’s near the edge where Mingi stands.

“I’m sorry, was I taking too long?” Yunho asks him with such innocence, the tips of his ruddy shoulders as round and yet lanky as the rest of him. The bits of clavicle and milk skin exposed drive Mingi’s curious mind wild, fingers and body suddenly burning with the urge to touch and explore.

“No,” Mingi says weakly. He feels his soul curse itself for his blatant breathlessness, a voice similar to San’s asking him to save some of his image so at least the rejection will be less pathetic. “Ah, San said it would be better if I’d come to bathe now. It saves more time than if we went one at a time. I tend to take a while.”

Yunho nods at that with little question, body moving below the surface as he makes space for Mingi to come in.

“I’ll turn away,” Yunho smiles at him, “so feel free to get undressed and join me.”

Mingi feels the blush along his ears as he pulls at the shoulder of his dress, tugging it off. He feels the reddening reach his cheeks by the time it’s at his pectorals.

When it’s tossed to the floor with his undergarments and shoes, Mingi feels like his body is all aflame with the flush of fear. He sinks into the water just before Yunho— who’s turned his back to him and busies his wait with the splashing of little waves— and only taps the other’s shoulder when he’s ready to be seen.

“Done?” Yunho asks politely, turning around to see Mingi nod. His chin is nearly sunken into the water, self-conscious of his body and how much he’s displaying it, though Yunho pays no mind and wades back into the water with a hand tugging Mingi’s along. 

“The water here is lovely,” Yunho mutters as they swim behind a large boulder and find shade. “I really enjoy the way it’s softening my skin. I could really get lost here and forget all my burdens.”

He looks at Mingi with soft eyes, at ease and slumped against the water like it could carry him away and he’d make no move to fight it. Mingi wonders what such a carefree attitude would feel like upon his own skin.

“It seems...nice.”

Yunho laughs at that, suddenly cupping his hands near the surface of the water and lifting it up quickly. He pours the smallest bit onto Mingi’s head and the prince flinches, eyes wide as the water slowly trickles down the crown of his red hair and to his backside.

Yunho repeats the movement a few more times, lifting his cupped hands and raining the smallest droplets of warm water until Mingi’s hair is nearly soaked. He feels warm and comfortable like this, unintentionally drifting towards Yunho’s warmth.

The moment is ruined by Mingi’s front bumping into Yunho, the two of them still as their chests touch below the water.

“Ah!” Mingi jolts backwards, body a fierce red that makes his eyes tear in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention and I—”

“Mingi,” Yunho coos, forcing the prince to look up at him. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

The prince goes slack with his words, watching Yunho’s tender eyes trace the lines of his face and shoulders until he’s closing the distance between them and wrapping his long fingers around Mingi’s shoulder blades.

“You’re really tense,” Yunho whispers. “Why? It’s just me.”

_‘It’s because it’s you,’_ Mingi wants to say. _‘And I don’t know how to feel around you.’_

Yunho lifts a hand to brush some of Mingi’s wet locks away, scratching at the scalp and enjoying the way Mingi’s eyes flutter closed by instinct. He leans into the touch and Yunho holds him there, supporting his loosening body as he continues to soothe him.

“I’m sorry if you’re not used to this,” Yunho murmurs to him, their faces so close that Mingi can feel his breath ghosting his closed eyes. “I imagine princes don’t get much physical affection from others, do they?”

Mingi hums to that, leaning even closer and feeling his head begin to lull to a side. Yunho directs his drifting body to turn a little sideways, Mingi’s hip pressed against a plush thigh below the surface as his head drops onto Yunho’s shoulder. 

“It’s not that I had no physical affection,” Mingi says. “I was showered in kisses and cuddles from both of my fathers. They were very keen on satiating my need for human touch. But I have never been…”

_‘I’ve never been caressed like I was porcelain. I’ve never been held like I was a beloved treasure. I’ve never had fingers trail along my body that burned to the touch.’_

Mingi smiles against Yunho’s shoulder, turning away to bury his heavy eyes.

“I’ve never been touched in a way this loving.”

Yunho lets a sigh escape him, nails still continuing to scratch at Mingi’s scalp as the other trails to his shoulder, rubbing circles along the rigid bend. 

“That’s a shame,” he says nonchalantly. “You deserve to be touched reverently. Like a prince should be touched. Like a priceless treasure deserves to be held.”

And maybe something overtakes Mingi— something prince-like and entitled to the bone. Something used to luxury and confidence and oozing with the poise he’s been trained to have. Or maybe it’s just the sound of Yunho’s gravelly tone showing him worship that convinces Mingi he has a sense of power, of dignity and entitlement unrivaled. 

But his mouth moves along the bend of Yunho’s shoulder before he can think, feeling Yunho’s breath hitch against him, pressing the prince into the boulder with a gentle shove as hands begin to caress him all over.

“Then touch me the way I deserve to be touched.”

Yunho gives him a cheeky grin, a predator and prey coexisting in one simple smile as his hands trail up Mingi’s inner thigh.

“Of course,” he whispers. “Of course.”

-☆☼☆-  
  


Yunho’s hands are careful and full of purpose, Mingi finds. They trail up his thigh with the soft pads of Yunho’s fingers and run down with his blunt nails scraping the surface. It’s enough to stir up the first pool of arousal in Mingi’s stomach, his body already trembling below the water as Yunho presses closer.

“Is this alright?” He’s quick to ask, his thigh nudging the space between Mingi’s. The prince whimpers an affirmative— this breathless string of what should be the word _‘yes’_ — and Yunho is merciful enough to give the prince a small kiss along his adam’s apple before digging his thigh upwards and allowing Mingi’s to clamp down around it roughly.

Mingi’s moans are sweet and sharp, gasp upon gasp that sends him into a whiny fit of short pleas. Yunho obeys every single one, thigh angling itself over and over to hit the exact spot of friction the prince is looking for. 

When Mingi’s breath picks up— little whimpers that sound like sobs, Yunho slows down.

“Come here,” he says softly. “It’ll feel better this way.”

He turns them a little to the side, their shoulders resting against the boulder and hiding behind it as he reaches his hand down. The first touch upon Mingi’s cock is light and delicate, trailing the underside as he watches Mingi shiver in response.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” Yunho quirks a brow at him, watching Mingi’s cheeks redden along with his own when he shakes his head.

He gasps at that, tightening a small ring along the head of Mingi’s cock with his pointer finger and his thumb. “Not even once?”

“There was never— _ah!”_ Mingi’s thighs shake, feeling Yunho’s hand begin to make strokes up and down at a steady pace. “There was never— never any time and I didn’t know how. I was too embarrassed.”

Yunho slows at that, a hand coming to brace Mingi’s hip and hold him sweetly. 

“I didn’t know,” Yunho says softly. “Do you want me to stop?”

Mingi shakes his head desperately, hips bucking into the touch and moaning louder as Yunho makes a show of tightening his fist, hand working faster under the water. The current had begun to slosh around them with the rough movement, Mingi’s ears numb and muffled to anything that isn’t his own breath or Yunho’s skin upsetting the water. 

“That means I’m the first person to touch you like this?” Yunho’s voice is a secret; a diamond encased in the hidden cloak of the mist, shimmer hidden deep beneath other wishes that Mingi doesn’t want to envision if they’re not truly there. He wants hope, but he doesn’t want the pain of having it. Not for this.

But when his eyes open and Yunho looks at him like the moon has finally been caught between his spindly fingers, Mingi can’t help but hope.

He gives a silent nod, watching the way Yunho’s eyes turn to stars and his cheeks bloom into roses. He is ethereal, suddenly a downcast demigod with all the world’s fortune between his lips, bitten down and licked apart by his pink tongue. He’s a vision of health and prosperity— everything Mingi’s ever wanted. Everything Mingi wants. 

“I’m honored,” Yunho’s voice chokes out. “To be the first.”

His hand speeds up and slows down in a rhythmic pattern of trial, looking for the pace where Mingi’s thighs tremble the most and his squirms are as visible as they can be. Mingi fights to keep his eyes open to watch as Yunho studies him, a certain soft-hearted pleasure blanketing his features when Mingi jolts particularly rough. He doesn’t let the prince back away from the onslaught of pleasure, instead cupping his backside and pulling him closer the more violent his squirms become. Mingi isn’t blind to the way Yunho’s breath hitches at every single one of his whimpers, and he gets as much of a confirmation when the prince lets out a little mewl that has Yunho biting at his clavicle. 

“Your shaking thighs are so cute,” Yunho whines. “You’re so precious. Does it feel good?”

Mingi nods fervently against him, feeling cared for as Yunho tends to his every sound and need. When he makes a differing noise or writhes in a particular way, Yunho slows his hand and asks him if he’s okay to keep going. Over and over, with gentle kisses and nips pressed to his neck, Mingi is pleasured steadily and with the utmost care. 

On a particularly rough tug that ends with Yunho’s finger digging into his slit, Mingi feels his cock begin to pulse with the incoming sensation of something erupting. His stomach twists tightly and tugs downward, asking for the rough current of eroticism to finally snap apart, exploding behind his eyes like a thousand stars. He taps Yunho’s shoulder and whines a plea that he’s going to do something— something he’s never done before and is afraid to do— but the taller merely encourages him with a soft coo to allow himself release.

Mingi’s body snaps into an arch as he cums, releasing roughly and excessively into the warm water that immediately begins to seep into his bones and ease his oncoming ache.

Yunho is gentle with bringing him down from the high, stroking his slowly softening cock through it until he’s shivering a little and fidgeting away.

“How do you feel?” The other questions him, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to the base of his jaw and trailing a dozen upwards until his lips are at the corner of one of Mingi’s closed eyes. “Feel good? Do you need anything?”

“A hug,” Mingi says without thinking, eyes shooting open once he realizes what he’s let slip from his lips. He feels embarrassment envelop him, looking at Yunho’s soft eyes turn quizzical when Mingi tries to shift away from the hand still thumbing at his hip. 

“Sorry, that was weird. I didn’t meant to—”

Yunho laughs loudly, the kind that is full of vibrancy and unforgiving in its glow. He wraps both of his arms around Mingi without hesitation and squeezes him close, their entire bodies pressed together with nothing left to modesty.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Yunho says with a smile. He rests his chin on the perch of Mingi’s shoulder, and the prince is quick to wrap his own arms around him and rest his hands in Yunho’s warm dark locks. “I think it’s rather sweet that you want me to hold you.”

“Is it not normal?” Mingi asks it in passing, beginning to tune out in favor of the feeling of Yunho’s warmth and the chirping wind of nature. The weather was difficult to see beyond the mist, leaving them in a world that Mingi could draw up to be anything he wanted. 

“Some partners are not as affectionate,” Yunho hums. “But you’re so sweet, I shouldn’t have expected less of you.”

“As are you. Sweet, I mean. Thank you for taking care of me.”

Yunho pulls back at that, giving Mingi that award-winning smile that Mingi’s wanted to bottle and carry with him for life. 

“Don’t thank me,” he says softly. “It’s an honor to take care of you, Mingi. I would do it out of my own free will any day.”

The kiss they share is soft and chaste— wordless with nothing to contextualize it, but Mingi thinks they both see the declaration well enough.

-☼-  
  


When they finally emerge from the hot spring in a change of longer dresses with thick sleeves, Mingi finds the weather to be darkening by the minute.

“It’s going to storm horribly, isn’t it?” Yunho muses as they look up at the sky, hand in hand with one another as they make the trek back slowly. Mingi nods in the silence as the clouds pass overhead, ranging from a darkened gray to a deep charcoal. They find San in the same position next to his horse, staring up at the sky and whistling.

“You two ought to take cover in the carriage soon,” he sighs. “I think I’m going to have to find a place to put Byeol in the meantime. Even I don’t feel comfortable leaving her out in this weather.”

Yunho and Mingi nod to that, climbing into their carriage as they hear the pitter-patter of the horse scampering away, San’s voice trailing along with it as he directs his horse to a place where the trees are thick and encasing. 

They say nothing to one another as they settle inside, though Yunho does move from his side after a few minutes to sit next to Mingi. The prince welcomes the motion with the smallest tap of his hand along Yunho’s thigh, offering his palm face up with spread fingers. Yunho takes the cue with gratitude, slipping their fingers together and clasping them tightly. 

“You know, while you slept I sat next to you like this,” Mingi muses, watching as Yunho glances up at him and snickers.

“Is that so? Makes sense why I had such pleasant dreams.”

Mingi laughs lightly, smile wide and tugging at the edges of his mouth as Yunho settles against him again, body entirely limp as he allows Mingi to hold him. 

“It’s nice being together like this, isn’t it?” Yunho asks him, head nearly slipping forward with the control he’s relinquished. Mingi takes it as a sign to tug Yunho closer to him, legs tossed over his lap and head pressed beneath Mingi’s chin. It reminds the prince of all the times he’d sewn up Yunho’s dresses in a position similar to this, with their comfort stretched both ways as they talked of nearly nothing and still felt at ease. “I wish we could be like this forever.”

“Forever is an awfully long time,” Mingi whispers, feeling sadness overtake him. They’re hardly the type to be allowed anything forever. They had never been fortunate enough this far to even have something long-lasting. “Let’s just try a day at a time.”

Yunho hums in agreeance, following Mingi’s lead with a naivety the prince hopes he’ll retain forever.

The last thing he wants to do is break his heart.

-☼-  
  


The weather begins to pick up in howls nearly minutes after Yunho falls asleep.

Mingi finds that Yunho sleeps like the dead, face pressed in comfort against where his heart beats the loudest. He wonders if the sleeping boy can hear it in his dreams too— that steady thump that rises and falls along with the soft cheek resting on his skin. Only once does Yunho squirm in his sleep, moving closer to Mingi as though silently asking for a tighter hold. The prince gives it to him easily, arms wrapping him in a gentle cocoon that’s snug to fit and intent on securing him in place. Yunho stops wriggling after that and Mingi continues to hold him, even as his arms go numb and his lap begins to ache. 

The nature around them begins to swell with its uproar. Mingi watches the windows of the carriage beat down with the wind's furious blows; the floor beneath them rattles in a war, and Mingi wonders what has angered nature so intensely that she’s determined to overthrow everything above and below.

The door to the carriage shakes open for only a second before it’s swung ungraciously, San popping his soaked head in and giving Mingi a sheepish smile. He’s careful as he shuts it closed, desperate to not let it get caught in the relentless storm but also wary of waking Yunho up. After a few moments of pleading with the whirlwind, he finally shuts it closed and plops in the small seat across the two, looking positively exhausted.

“I take it all went well in the springs,” San comments languidly. He gives Yunho’s sleeping form a small nod in acknowledgement, watching with a snicker as Mingi turns pink.

“It went fine enough,” Mingi shrugs. “I’m under the impression that a fair amount of affection goes both ways.”

San frowns at that, sitting upwards and leaning closer.

“ _‘Under the impression'_? You mean— you don’t know if he loves you too? Was his answer indirect? Don’t tell me he told you to wait!”

“Quiet down!” Mingi hisses, hushing San despite the way Yunho makes not even a single movement. The advisor looks unamused, slinking back into his seat and raising his brows at Mingi as though to say _‘you can’t get yourself out of answering this.’_

Mingi frowns at him, sliding back with Yunho in his arms and knocking his head against the back of the carriage with a small thump.

“It’s complicated. We exchanged an intimate conversation and we— we felt...as one, for a few moments. But I didn’t outright confess and he didn’t outright answer. We’re simply working with the way the air feels around us.”

“ _The way the air feels,_ ” San tsks. “Miscommunication births a gap, Mingi. Wooyoung and I are a tough couple because we’ve bested moments of awkwardness and hold nothing back. You should learn to do the same before the two of you end up parting ways against your will, believing it’s what the other wants of you.”

Mingi huffs at that, staring down at the small smile that’s spread on Yunho’s face from his undoubtedly pleasant dream. 

That picture of youth. That eternal sense of strength, of dignity and composure and selflessness even in the presence of selfish actions. 

Mingi would never be one to ruin his little piece of forever. Mingi would never be one to cause him any more sorrow than he’d already experienced.

_‘Now, all I’d like to do is find Jongho and have a proper burial for my mother.’_

_Right,_ Mingi thinks. _This is for him, not for me._

“You shouldn’t worry,” Mingi murmurs. San stares at him harshly— surveying the change in Mingi’s tone. “I know exactly what I want of us both. It will work out for the best; I made a promise to him that I intend to keep.”

The royal advisor says nothing, instead allowing Mingi the silent pleasure of gazing at the boy in his lap and retiring away for the night. 

For once, his dreams are present. Those same dreams of picnicking in a garden, the buttercups and the sunflowers growing beautifully in a portrait along their green hills. That long, distant feeling of Seonghwa and Hongjoong watching Yunho twirl in his skirt with a laugh, grasping at the fabric in amazement and praising their son for his handiwork. The remaining sound of sweet lullabies twinkling into the air as Jongho kicks a ball across the flowers and chases butterflies with his brother.

In a perfect world where Mingi is at peace. Where home is still alive and well inside of him, the only piece of eternity any higher power would ever allow him to possess.

And amongst the smallest of wishes Mingi had made, at least his dreams are silent no longer. 

-☼-  
  


Mingi awakens to the sound of war.

Not the world rearing its head in anguish, nor the sky chanting a declaration— but real, _human_ war. 

The kinds Mingi had been witness to before, just as it’d torn his kingdom down to shreds.

Instincts tell him to drop from the moving carriage and fight— to draw his sword up into the air and point towards the heavens, asking neither blessing nor luck, but confidence. That was how he’d gone down, fighting and being beaten, but fighting nonetheless. 

It takes a few moments of panic for his vision to fully return, and he realizes with the few knocks San gives against the carriage in an unhurried manner that the war was not being waged on them.

“Glad to see you up,” San greets him with a grin once he swings open the door. Yunho was now asleep on the side opposite of him, still gone as far as the world was concerned. It was beginning to make Mingi worry, just how much he was able to sleep and continue sleeping. 

“What the hell is all that noise?” Mingi rushes, dropping step for step off the carriage’s edge and looking around for the source. Surprisingly, there was little around them beyond the circular clearing within the forest they’d spent the whole night traversing.

“There’s a town just at the edge,” San shrugs. “Hear the people there like to reenact the war; makes for good entertainment at the very least.”

“This soon?” Mingi quirks a brow, helping San brush Byeol’s mane with gentle fingers as the horse continues to threaten small kicks towards the racket. 

“Not everyone was completely distraught, your highness. This town was hardly even a territory of any kingdom. Your loverboy in there though? He might know a lot more about that than he lets on.”

“Yunho? Perhaps he knows a bit, but I don’t think he’d really care. I’d not think him to remember much at all, in fact. Seeing as how he was—”

Mingi stops himself, lips sealing tightly and shaking his head.

“Never mind. I just don’t think he’d really care all that much.”

San looks at him with a knowing grin, as though he’s got more under his belt than Mingi will ever have. Perhaps he did, but Mingi hardly concerned himself with it when San was a friend and not his foe. 

“Maybe I was wrong,” San hums in thought. “Maybe you’re a lot more knowing than you let on too.”

Mingi doesn’t ask him what he means by that, instead following San’s instruction to climb back into the carriage and wake Yunho up.

“We’ll be walking the rest of the way,” he calls from outside, his voice piercing through the thin layer of the carriage’s body. “The carriage will be ogled too closely and it’ll be apparent you’re of royal status. I don’t imagine you and Yunho would take too kindly to such attention. Outskirt villages always tend to be a little too star struck for comfort.”

Mingi nods his head at that, despite knowing San can’t see. He shakes Yunho a few times and watches him stir drowsily, eyes fluttering open and then shut in a repetitive pattern before they finally snag on the way open, giving Mingi a lazy smile.

“We’re here?” He asks gently, voice raspy and brittle at the edges from the constant rest. Mingi feels a shiver travel down his spine at the bass in Yunho’s voice, so unused to it in comparison to how naturally lilted with sunshine it’s always been. He takes a moment to let his brain stop and start again, giving the other a small smile and offering his hand for Yunho to tug upon.

“San says we’ll have a ways to travel, but apparently it’s a town you’ve been to before.”

“A town I know?” Yunho frowns, hopping off the carriage and watching as San drives it along with his horse to a safe place. “I know many towns— or, well, I’ve _known_ many, at the very least.” 

“They like to reenact the war,” Mingi shrugs. “Know anything about that?”

Yunho says nothing, instead pushing past Mingi towards the edge of the forest with a renewed vigor.

“Seems you’re still learning,” San laughs as he reappears at Mingi’s side. “You should never ask a man of his darkest secrets.” 

He leaves Mingi in the dust too, walking ahead with a strut all too victorious for having just sent the prince into a mental frenzy.

  
  


The inn that San picks for them to stay in is perhaps the most gorgeous building Mingi’s ever seen. It crawls upwards towards the heavens with an impressive height, embedded with neon lights of many childlike colors. It appeals to every single one of Mingi’s senses, having never seen such a place in his life.

“There’s many different types of architecture,” San offers him when he notices Mingi gaping at the entrance. “Your fathers simply picked what was sturdiest back in the city, but they weren’t opposed to places like this either. In fact, they encouraged such artistic buildings to be constructed at the jurisdiction of King Hongjoong. He was a pioneer for a lot of this vibrant design.”

“Father built this?” Mingi perks up, following San like a puppy as he enters the rotating doors. Yunho had long since entered and was waiting against a wall, arms crossed over his arms and cheeks puffed with a held breath. Mingi hates seeing him look so on edge, but it wasn’t his place to ask Yunho what the issue was.

“Your father did a lot more than just build this place,” San muses. “You’ll see, eventually. The longer we spend here, the more you’ll know.”

Mingi pouts to him, whining for more details before Yunho comes over to drag him away. San spares them a cheeky glance and shouts something— a combination of letters and numbers, to which Yunho tugs Mingi into a different direction.

“Where are we going?” Mingi frowns. “Why is everyone acting so weird since we’ve arrived here? Is your brother not in this city?”

“Mingi,” Yunho calls softly. When the prince turns around he finds Yunho’s eyes staring at him with hunger and want, swirling in equal pools like the energies of Yin and Yang. “I promise I will tell you more, but you have to follow me for now until we get to our room.”

Mingi’s obedient the rest of the way there, watching as Yunho leads them into an elevator and presses a button readily. Mingi thinks he looks awfully familiar with the entire layout, which makes his stomach churn.

_Had Yunho slept in this inn before, even when he was without a home? He had neither money nor belongings to pay._ Mingi feels a nausea roll through him.

_Not unless he slept here with someone else._

“We’re almost there,” Yunho says suddenly. “Are you alright with taking a shower before we talk?”

“As long as you promise we’ll have the talk eventually,” Mingi pouts, “then I suppose I can wait.”

Yunho looks contemplative at that, lips curled like the soft edges of a crescent moon. He’s gentle with his grip on Mingi’s wrist. “Or we could accomplish both at the same time.”

  
  


The tub at the inn is huge. 

Mingi’s only seen a tub as large as this one when he was back at home within his castle, his bathroom sprawling across the area of enough space for an entire home. It was, without a doubt, excess that Mingi could never fully appreciate as it deserved to be appreciated— but he’d only ever made up for his lack of presence by soaking deep into his basin and sending grateful wishes towards his parents. That was all he could do, besides spend a copious amount of time soaking until his skin pruned gently.

“I take it this is more to your liking,” Yunho laughs. “Something a prince can finally say he is used to, hm?”

Mingi’s nod is shy, modest as he tries to be over such a matter. Yunho pays it no mind in favor of filling the tub, asking the prince what scent he’d like. He picks a tube simply labeled _‘hibiscus’_ and watches with interested eyes as Yunho pops it open and empties the majority of it into the running water. 

“You look shy,” Yunho says after a bit. “Are you alright?”

Mingi finds himself staring down at the tile beneath his feet, face warm and body feeling so, so small. 

“I think I just...feel like a child again,” Mingi murmurs. “San said my father designed this place.”

“He did,” Yunho hums, “a little before...it happened. He designed this place for you.”

Mingi looks up at that, eyes burning with unshed tears as disbelief swarms into his stomach. “What do you mean?”

Yunho begins to shed his clothes instead of answering, gesturing for Mingi to do the same with no shame. Perhaps it’s because his mind is elsewhere— somewhere deep below the water and scented with mind-numbing hibiscus— but Mingi follows easily and doesn’t mind the silence as he slowly unravels until he is bare. They climb into the tub together, hands enveloped within one another’s, and sink to their chests before they stop.

“Your father is popular here,” Yunho smiles. “In fact, both of your fathers are popular in the majority of places I’ve been. They claimed no territory, but it never stopped them from offering help. When I was here, they’d just left after spreading good fortune upon this town.

“Rumors went about in equal parts good and bad, but they said the majority of the same things. Your father— King Hongjoong— he’d just celebrated the completion alongside your father for the grand opening of this place. He said it was inspired by his son. Said that the color palette was childlike and vibrant, and that it’d been all thanks to his child he was able to design it so quickly. I think he’d made an intention of showing it to you, eventually. But King Seonghwa had wanted to turn this place into a town you’d love. Some people thought they were making it a play place for their prince, but I see past that bitter assumption, looking over it a second time.”

Yunho reaches for Mingi’s hands below the water, lifting them up and intertwining them. He swings them side to side as he studies Mingi’s expression, which is fragile and full of vulnerability.

“They loved you, Mingi. More than anything in the world, perhaps. I used to hate this town, you know. I was somewhat bitter myself and seeing fathers who loved their son that much— well, I must have felt some sense of envy for you.” He grins, pressing a kiss to Mingi’s nose when he goes to protest. “But don’t get it wrong; I understand this place more now. It’s filled with warmth at every corner and contains more of your fathers’ love for you than you’ll probably ever be able to discover. I think that’s beautiful.”

Mingi wants to say something— truly, he wants to open his mouth and talk of at least one of the thoughts in his head. But there are so many: questions of Yunho’s own father, stories of his parents and what they’d done for him, little bits of knowledge he could share with Yunho that only the other would know.

But they all die to that overwhelming sense of regret. A crushing wash of loss that blankets him and makes him feel young again. He realizes it, belatedly with melancholy, that this place encapsulated memories of his childhood he’d never made and could never have the chance to make again. It was much like Yunho before him; a time capsule that kept everything safe in its small bubble, untainted forever and somewhat tragically so. 

Yunho pulls him closer and knocks their foreheads together in a show of empathy, careful with Mingi’s shaking body to not be too rough on him.

“I know how it feels to only have this much,” Yunho whispers, “but you have to treasure what you have. They left something behind for you, and without a doubt they’d want you to love it still as you would have when they were alive.”

Mingi nods with a hiccup, taking Yunho’s words in and trying to let them soothe his inner ache. Losing would never get easier, but at the very least Yunho understood what this meant to him. This was his pocketbook. This was his little paradise forever sealed tight. 

And for what it meant, Mingi at least tries to be grateful for the discovery that his boyhood and royal reign had not been one and the same.

  
  


Besides the knowledge that his parent’s laid in every bend and corner, Mingi finds a great deal of himself lying deep in everything. It was Mingi through his fathers’ eyes, yes, but sometimes they knew him better than he knew himself. His parents dedicated as much of their time to him as they did to their kingdom, and in the same way that this inn was built to last a thousand years and a hundred storms, their understanding of their son seemed to stretch even into years of his life they’d never get to see.

“The food they serve,” Mingi comments offhandedly, looking at a small handwritten scrawl of dishes and their prices on a bond paper that was beginning to yellow. It’d been left on their single bed stand in the room, which Mingi figures is customary for the sake of the resident. “It’s exactly to my liking.”

Yunho glances over and smiles. “Seems your taste is rather varied— though I’m guessing your palate is strict when it comes to vegetables, isn’t it?”

True to his observation, not a single vegetable was on the menu save for a salad— which even then, was the cheapest thing they had to offer. Mingi pouts at him, tucking it away from teasing eyes and huffing an excuse for their lack of taste.

“You seem a lot more childlike than I think I’ve ever realized,” Yunho wonders aloud. He’s in the middle of buttoning his sleep shirt when he hears a soft thump, turning around to see Mingi flopped onto his back on their bed and clutching a pillow to his chest. 

“When I’m allowed to be, I’m just a big kid.” Mingi lifts the pillow up to his head, pressing it above his eyes to block out the light of midday outside. “But I had to grow rather quickly to take care of the kingdom after my fathers passed.”

“And now?”

Mingi frowns beneath his pillow, lifting it off just enough to peep at Yunho as he finishes doing up the final button. “What about now?” 

“Now, you’ve got no kingdom to rule,” Yunho says with a smile. He nudges Mingi to the side and climbs atop their large bed, sinking onto his back alongside him. “You’ve got no responsibilities...no higher power to listen to...nothing to stop you from being as you are. So, what now?”

Mingi finds himself pondering about that, curious as to what the answer really was. He’d never even thought of that. His life was full of discipline and self-restraint after his kingdom’s destruction, and not once in the following months did he really consider returning to his old ways. The most he’d done was fall into Yunho naturally, who brought that side out of him without thought. All he knew was Yunho made him happy. Yunho made him childish, singing and dancing with little care. Yunho made him feel at home enough to be the person he still felt he was.

But Mingi didn’t want to hold Yunho hostage for his own sake. Not when Yunho’s life was full of that ‘and now’. Mingi didn’t want to be the ghost of a fallen kingdom, keeping Yunho from being who he was.

But he still continues to ask himself that as Yunho closes the curtains, sliding in against Mingi’s body and cuddling him close under the darkness that shielded their actions. He asks himself that question as Yunho brings Mingi’s hands up below his dress shirt and allows him to familiarize himself with his warm skin in an intimate way that would only be appropriate for lovers. He asks himself that question when Yunho murmurs happy words of comfort in Mingi’s arms, falling asleep soundly to the feeling of Mingi’s hands on his body.

Yunho was all ever Mingi could find himself wanting. But keeping him was out of the question, wasn’t it?

_‘So, what now?’_

-☼-  
  


San surprisingly doesn’t chastise them for their midday nap, understanding the fatigue that continued to loom over Yunho like a shadow in their recent days. If anything, he lightly asks Yunho if he’s running particularly hot or cold— to which the taller shrugs him off and gives him his same sweet smile. Mingi had begun to wonder in the middle of their nap why Yunho was so warm, but the taller had always been covered in blush from head to toe in a natural rosy glow. _Perhaps he just runs hot,_ Mingi thinks. He hadn’t had the chance to feel Yunho’s bare skin outside of water before and their nap had been his first. He promises himself not to make a habit of it, but to try and feel some of Yunho’s warmth later just to reassure his increasingly anxious mind.

They make plans to explore a bit of the city for Mingi’s sake, San catching on rather quickly that the prince understood the true intention behind the town and where it stands. He doesn’t ask Mingi to hold back on his need to explore, and long after both Yunho and San themselves are tired, they continue to allow Mingi the right to explore.

There are many traces of his parents lying everywhere; little notes of encouragement inscribed into cement on random blocks and bricks of buildings carved with a small recreation of Mingi’s childhood drawings. It was quiet in a way that had to be searched for to be found, but to Mingi it spoke loudly and said a great deal on his parents' parts even without him being able to hear their voices anymore. The visit itself felt like a warm embrace, and if it were up to Mingi he’d stay here forever.

Unfortunately, such was not possible for him. San had promised Yunho to only stay long enough for Mingi to see what they’d wanted to see— which, to the prince, was shocking. He’d no idea San and Yunho had made an agreement at any point or another. 

“We’ll watch the reenactment of the war and then take our leave,” the advisor says with a yawn. His body cracks the slightest as he stretches upwards, and Mingi laughs at the grimace Yunho shows with the sound. “It’s the town's main attraction after all.”

“But my fathers had no say in that, right?” Mingi asks curiously, watching the way San frowns at him with a nod. From the little the advisor told him as they explored, it was the single thing the kings hadn’t made. Especially not for Mingi. 

“I think we ought to skip it,” Yunho interjects, watching the two turn to him in surprise. “I don’t think it’s anything you’d want to see.”

Mingi gives him a bewildered look, head tipped to the side in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It’s nothing pleasant. Word gets around fast about these things, and I already know the way it’s portrayed. It’d be better just to skip it altogether.”

At that, Mingi finds himself standing taller— a sense of bravery, or perhaps foolish pride, courses through him and he stamps his foot into the pavement like a child.

“Well, now I think we ought to see it for sure.” He turns to San and watches the advisor cock his head in amusement, smiling at the prince with that same lit flame. He’s probably ready for something to go wrong, and in Mingi’s haze he can’t find it in himself to stop that wrong from occurring. 

“When’s the next showing?” He asks him, taking San’s laugh as a go-ahead signal for their attendance as he walks away, more than likely to find one of the many strewn about pamphlets on the showtimes.

“Mingi,” Yunho warns, “let’s not do this. It’s not good for you, I promise you that much.”

“Yunho, don’t you think I have a right to see what people are saying of my kingdom and my family?”

The other groans at that, shaking his head in frustration before he grabs at Mingi’s hand.

“I’m serious, this is a lot more than you can handle right now. Let’s just let this be a positive experience and move on.”

“What is up with you?” Mingi hisses, yanking his hand away. “You of all people should understand! This is my chance to finish up what I have left here. Unlike you, I don’t have any living family to go back home to. _This_ is what I have and _this_ is what is left for me. If you can’t respect that, then maybe you should just go find Jongho on your own.”

When Yunho flinches back at that, eyes teary and full of hurt, Mingi feels himself attempting to trace his steps backwards.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that— Yunho—”

“I understand exactly what you mean,” Yunho says bitterly. “Have fun watching people desecrate your parent’s hard work right in front of you.”

He turns away before Mingi can catch him, disappearing into a crowd of oncoming pedestrians. He continues to stray far from Mingi, even as the prince yells his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, you can come find me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/sanniedaize) I'd love to make some writer/reader friends!
> 
> Comments and kudos aren't necessitated, but very much appreciated! :) They always make my day, so feel free to leave some. 
> 
> -n.


	3. III.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there.
> 
> Went through a fairly difficult up and down yesterday, which unfortunately made updating very difficult and has stifled writing for me for a bit...TT-TT much less editing. But I'm back now! 
> 
> The entire last break of this chapter is all smut, so unfortunately there's no skipping it (you could, but it does pertain to the story a bit) but I think my smut writing in this particular style is less descriptive on the vulgar side and more fluffed up poetics about porn.
> 
> I will say a small warning because Mingi drops into a semi sub-space for a bit, but it's a very minute exchange that isn't very long between him and Yunho :) However, if that's something that bothers you then I apologize and wanted to let you know!
> 
> Either way, I hope you guys enjoy :) We're almost at the finish line!
> 
> -n.

“Where’s Yunho?”

San finds Mingi looking sad and resentful, standing against the side of a building with his hands crossed behind his back. It was no secret to the advisor that from the way Mingi was leaning, his body was beginning to act up in a small flaring pain. It was rare for him to have that unless he’d overworked himself, mostly from not watching his emotions and letting his agitation get the better of him in his movements. Not even the soft cascade of his onyx long-sleeve dress could hide the stiffness of his position, and San was quick to tug him away from the wall with a huff.

“You always do this,” San says, exasperated. “Always let your temper get the better of you and then lash out on accident. You really _can_ find a way to be a brat even though your parents taught you all the manners in the world.”

“I’m not a brat,” Mingi whines. “I’m just occasionally foolish.”

The advisor shrugs at that, sitting Mingi on a cushioned bench in an open field that was close to the forest. “You say it how you like; doesn’t change what you did, which I bet was make Yunho upset, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” the prince pouts. “I was caught up in wanting to see and I’m sure— well, I know he’d never mean any harm towards me. But you understand, don’t you?”

“You have too much privilege sometimes,” San smiles sadly, “and I don’t think you realize all of it. He’s taught you to be better about it, just as you’ve taught him to be better at many things— but don’t forget that your origins are always going to be much different. You two are just as much alike as you are different people, and your backgrounds are the same in that respect.”

“I guess...I do tend to let this get the best of me,” Mingi shrugs. He kicks at the floor in dejection, embarrassed from head to toe with his childish behavior. “I should understand it’s difficult for both of us, not just him or me. I have a whole town in my name, and his only hope is that we find his brother alive and well and that he’ll want to be reunited.”

San’s smile turns genuine, smacking Mingi lightly against his shoulder which makes the other groan. “Now you’re getting the hang of it! What do you say we ditch this stupid show altogether?”

Mingi looks at the clearing as it fills with people— two tall and aggressive men strutting forward dressed as his fathers. Some people point to them and laugh; insults and demeaning jokes at the tips of their tongues. 

They could say a million hurtful things of his fathers and he’d never understand it. That bitterness inside of them must have come from things they felt on a personal level; experiences that tarnished their ability to see the beauty in the world. Mingi had been like that for a while, walking aimlessly with nothing but a lone whistle at the core of his heart. Life was endless and dull day in and day out. Nothing greeted him nor told him goodbye, and he was forced to believe that the entire planet was simply empty.

Perhaps that was how they’d felt. The absence of love and care kept them from at least having the decency to turn their heads away. They were jaded to a point Mingi had not allowed himself to get to.

No, they were jaded to a point _Yunho_ had kept Mingi from getting to.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Let’s go find Yunho.”

-☼-  
  


When they reenter their room, Mingi finds Yunho curled up beneath the blankets. All the lights are off and the curtains are closed, the room nearly pitch black save for the small candle Yunho had left on.

San tells him to check on Yunho while he goes to check the carriage outside of town, promising to return quickly so they could make their leave before the nightfall. 

“Yunho?” He calls to the small lump on the bed. It seemed nearly impossible for Yunho to shrink that much, but he more than likely was curled knees to chest— a position Mingi had never seen him in before. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier, you know. I never meant to hurt you like that. I see now why what I said was so inconsiderate and I— Yunho?”

He gets back a pained groan, something soft and broken that Mingi’s never heard him do before. He leans forward on the other side of the bed, lifting some of the blanket to reveal Yunho— sweating and red and brimming with heat all over.

“Oh my God! Yunho!” He presses a hand to his forehead and holds the other over his stomach between his knees, trying to rub him down enough to uncurl his body. Yunho’s black locks stick to his head and he nearly turns away, shocked by the sudden touch and cracking his eyes open.

“I don’ feel s’ hot,” he slurs. “It hurts.”

“You’re coming down with something really awful,” Mingi says softly. He tries to brush his hair away, scratching at the scalp lightly when Yunho lets out a shuddery breath. “When did you start feeling sick?”

“Awhile ago,” he murmurs. “In the carriage...but I could handle it. Then when we showered it got—” he gasps a little in pain, turning to the other side and clutching his stomach— “it got worse. But you cuddled me t’ sleep and it was comfy…”

“And after we fought?” Mingi whispers.

“Stomach started hurtin’...I felt bad— was gonna apologize, but I felt like throwin’ up so I just rushed back.”

Mingi sighs at that, walking around the end of the bed to come face to face with Yunho again on the other side.

“I’m sorry too, but let’s not think of that right now, okay? We can talk more about it once you’re better. Right now, we need to get medicine. San’s just gone down to check on the carriage but I’m sure if I ask him, he’ll make the trip twice over for some money.”

“Is’ a waste,” Yunho moans. “We need to get goin— going soon…” 

Mingi huffs at him, pressing a soft kiss to his damp forehead and watching the way Yunho leans closer, eyes suddenly cracked open and pleading for more.

“It’s not a waste,” Mingi says instead. “You need to get better and in order for you to do that, we need to make sure you take some form of medicine. Even if we are to continue our way on the road, I highly doubt you want to be sick when you meet Jongho.”

Yunho whines high and loud at that, startling Mingi, who’s never heard him make such a noise. He seemed all the more whiny while being sick, and he reaches for Mingi with the soft need to be held. The prince does not think even once of denying him, slipping into the bed and allowing Yunho to perch his chin atop Mingi’s abdomen. 

“This timing is awful,” Yunho sighs once he’s comfortable. His expression is more eased now; his speech much clearer along with it. “‘M sorry for being sick. I can’t believe I let myself get this bad. If I’d known after the hot spring...”

“It was the hot spring that made you sick?” Mingi quirks a brow at that, confused as to how he could have gotten sick from that. When memories flood back of exactly what they had done, he feels himself go red. “I wouldn’t have kept you so long if I knew this would end up happening.”

Yunho shrugs on top of him, slinking further and shivering the slightest bit. Mingi wraps the blanket high around his shoulders and watches as Yunho tugs it a little further. In the end, he’s little more than a small tuft of hair and a pouty round face sticking out from the cocoon of the blanket. Mingi wants to kiss him all over— on his damp forehead, his sniffling nose, his reddening cheeks and his dried, cracking lips. It should be gross, but all he can feel is fondness blooming within him.

“It’s not your fault,” Yunho says with a huff. Just moving this much seems to have winded him, and belatedly Mingi wonders how he’d ever be able to make the trek back to the carriage. 

“We didn’t know at the time,” Yunho plops his face down, muffled into Mingi’s dress and feeling comfortable enough to stay that way. “Plus, I don’t regret it.”

Mingi snorts at that, fingers shaky in Yunho’s hair as he tries to brush what little is available to him. “Of course you don’t. You weren’t the one—“

He finds his lips sealed shut, embarrassment keeping him from saying any more.

“Wasn’t the one what?” Yunho teases, lifting his head to reveal his smug grin. It shouldn’t be attractive, Mingi thinks— but he finds it nearly impossible to find Yunho anything but.

“Oh, be quiet and rest,” Mingi pouts. “You think you’re real suave for someone running a fever.”

Yunho snorts at that, resting his head back down and nuzzling into Mingi as much as he can.

“I just feel good with you,” Yunho mumbles tiredly. “Only with you.”

With that, he dozes off. Mingi doesn’t really mind, happy to have him so close and looking so content even in his illness-induced and cocky-smile sleep.

  
  


San returns looking shaken up, hands gesturing for them to get up and pack their things.

“The night is falling a lot quicker than I’d suspected,” he breathes. “And I’m beginning to think the people are becoming suspicious of our stay.”

“We aren’t _that_ obvious,” Mingi frowns. “Are we?”

“You’re the only man within this entire city with bright red hair wearing a dress, I’d say you stand out fairly well and fit the description of the prince in terms of looks.”

“We can’t leave now,” Mingi whispers. “Yunho is sick. It’s really bad. We need medicine or something first before we can send him out into this bad weather and expect him to be on the road for at least another day.”

San groans at that, a hand running through his hair as he comes to observe the lump of Yunho’s shape atop Mingi’s lap. “This is the worst possible timing. I want to keep you both hidden but I’m not sure how much longer I can do that for.”

“Is it really that bad for us to be seen?”

“Mingi, this town is half supportive and half distasteful. We are not about to start an internal feud between them because a portion of the population would like your head. Much less someone alerts the guards of a neighboring kingdom! They’ll come looking for us and then we’ll be on the run. Do you want to be on the run right now? With Yunho sick and looking for his only relative?”

Mingi frowns harder at that, looking down at the boy on his lap who looks many years younger than he did before. Indeed, they were barely above the age of legal adulthood and hadn’t necessarily been aging fast by any means, but with all that they’ve gone through, it takes Mingi a very long moment of reflection to notice just how harsh everything’s been on them for quite some time. 

He gives San a small nod, asking him to retrieve a bottle of medicine as quickly as possible while he awakens Yunho and gets the both of them ready. The advisor warns him not to leave the room until he comes back, and to make sure that by all means, Yunho can at least walk.

With San closing the door softly behind him, Mingi directs his attention back to the blanketed figure on his lap, shaking it a few times to get him to stir.

Yunho takes at least a solid five minutes of shaking and calling for him to wake up— which, by that point in time Mingi is already exasperated and Yunho is on the verge of falling back asleep.

“We need to leave,” he pleads. “So I need you to use whatever energy you have left to get up. Can you do that for me?”

“I can,” Yunho mumbles. “I can, I can... _I can_..”

Mingi ends up with his arms below Yunho’s, tugging him up until he’s at least sat upright on the bed. He’s gentle with him as he strips him of his sleep-shirt, button for button going downwards and exposing the way he’s wearing nothing underneath.

It’s not erotic, for either of them. Mingi wipes away his building sweat with a damp hand towel from the bathroom and continues to keep a steady hold on his hand the entire time. He’s delicate with Yunho as the other stares him down, a lazy smile across his features as he leans close and gives Mingi a kiss on his forehead in gratitude.

“You take very good care of me,” Yunho mumbles. “Thanks.”

Mingi shrugs him off, returning the kiss with one to his cheek and helping Yunho to dress a little quicker than he would’ve if he’d been left alone. They settle for a bland shirt dress and a coat to keep Yunho between warm and cool, careful as they go to avoid him tipping over when it slips over his head. By the time they’re done, Mingi’s broken into a small sweat and still trying to convince Yunho to sit upright in favor of lying down again.

San comes back not long after with a small bottle of medicine, the capsules inside it an emerald green that Mingi’s never witnessed before. Then again, they’d mainly used herbal remedies in his kingdom— something his fathers preferred when they found out Mingi was allergic to a good portion of pills. 

“Pop two of these with some water,” San instructs gently. “Then we’ll have to be on our feet to get to the carriage. Is that alright?”

Yunho shows him a smile as wide as he can make it— which isn’t all that wide, considering it falls nearly seconds later with his drooping eyelids. It takes Mingi constantly patting up and down his arms to keep him awake as he tries to swallow the two pills with a small glass of water San had gotten him, and by then he’s started to fall into Mingi’s arms with comfort at the patting.

“We need to get him down there _now_ ,” San sighs. “Any more of this and we’ll definitely be caught. Yunho, you have to stand.”

The tall boy groans, trying to rise to his feet and stumbling a little before he finds his footing.

“You can hold my hand on the way there,” Mingi whispers to him. “Lean on me if you get unsteady.”

Yunho nods against him, eyebrows scrunching in determination to just put one foot in front of the other. Mingi leads him the entire way and watches in pride as Yunho uses his hand like an anchor, moving steadily with San just ahead of them.

  
  


By the time they get to the front desk, San looks nervous. His pupils have begun to shake along with his breath, which seems one deep gasp away from turning into a hurl. Mingi asks him a few times if he’s sure _he’s_ not sick, to which he gets back an unamused glare as the advisor tries to usher them outside. 

“Get a head start right now,” San whispers to them both. “I’ll check us out and pay for it all, but you need to make sure you get there first. Do not make eye contact with anyone, even if they seem nice.”

Mingi nods to that, repeating the instructions to Yunho who seems unbothered. _He is looking down at the floor_ , Mingi reasons with himself, _he probably has no intention to actually look up anytime soon._

The walk through town seems agonizingly slow, though Yunho sticks out sorely with the speed he’s walking at. Mingi eventually links them arm in arm— and his hands tremble when the whispers grow exponentially.

“We must look strange,” Yunho mutters suddenly. “Two tall men in dresses linking arms, hobbling down the street…”

Mingi finds himself chuckling at that against his will, continuing to walk forward as the whispers follow them. He just wants to be done with it, enough to settle beneath the shade of a tree with Yunho curled into his lap, fever alleviating with the fresh breeze upon his skin.

It’s at the edge of town that a woman approaches them— tepid and looking rather small— and peers up into Mingi’s eyes.

“My sincerest apologies, ma’am,” he murmurs, “but we’ve got to get a move on. Could you move...?”

“This is the edge of town,” she says suddenly. “There’s nothing out that way. Your friend looks sick, maybe you should turn around and head to the local clinic.”

“We really don’t have any time for that,” Mingi sighs. “He’ll be alright, he’s been prescribed some medicine to hold him over in the meantime.”

“No, he hasn’t. I own the clinic.”

Mingi feels taken aback at her insistence, stumbling backwards with Yunho in hand. Finally, he looks up.

He and the woman make eye contact and she looks enraged, a finger pointing up to jab at him.

_“You!”_ She cries. “You’re that fucking thief who stole my clinic’s goods months ago!”

_Oh_ , Mingi thinks, _fuck._

“I didn’t—” Yunho stutters over himself, steps as wobbly as his voice. Mingi holds him as steadily as he can, though it proves to be nearly impossible with how much the woman begins to shove herself towards them both. “I didn’t mean to do that!”

_“Oh,”_ she sneers, “so you just _happened_ to steal all of my medicine? That was an _accident?_ Are you kidding me!”

“It was a necessity,” Yunho says with haste. His eyes are shaking and by now, the people surrounding them have turned in a whispering hoard towards the scene. Mingi feels himself wanting to shrink deep into a well and never come out. 

“A necessity,” she hisses at him. “You’re one man who stole enough for a dozen. How is that necessary at all?”

Mingi wants to help, in some way— but looking at Yunho he sees nothing but fear and shame tremble beneath his eyes. He looks cornered; like a scared animal fearing for its life. 

For the first time, he sees Yunho look entirely helpless.

“Coming through!” Someone shouts from the crowd. The circle of people that enclose them spread apart at one of the ends, revealing a boy with black hair that curls around his ears and gives him the appearance of a nymph.

“Ma’am,” he says coolly, pushing Yunho and Mingi to the side discreetly so as to act as a barrier. “I think my friend here means that the prices you were charging at the time of his thieving were positively outrageous. It was robbery of the people, so he merely countered with an act of equal legality— which is, to say, not legal at all. Or perhaps...should I tell everyone of the way you were cheating your taxes? Hm?”

The woman’s lips snap shut at that, jaw clicking as she grinds her teeth and turns away with her brows knitted together and her breath muttering a thousand curses. The crowd dissipates as quickly as it came, uninterested in the result of the conflict so much as they were into the conflict itself.

Mingi was really starting to dislike the people of this town.

“I’m sorry for all that,” the shorter boy turns to them. Up close Mingi can see how beautiful he is all over— face spattered with freckles and the occasional beauty marks that make his sultry eyes pop. His skin is a honey color that the prince has always thought looked perfectly sublime; all things considered he’s the embodiment of Summer.

_All these years apart,_ Mingi thinks fondly, _and you haven’t changed a day._

“It’s alright, Wooyoung. I’m just glad you came when you did.”

Wooyoung gives them a sweet grin of victory, a small hand thrown up in place of thanks as he directs the two of them back into the forest.

“San sent for me a few days ago,” Wooyoung fills them in on the way there. “Said you two were becoming too much to handle even for him. Which is saying a lot, considering San has a temper leagues above mine. Don’t tell him I told you that!”

Mingi snorts, swearing secrecy as they find the carriage perfectly untouched along a line of bushes. Byeol kicks her hooves at the sight of Wooyoung and nuzzles into him like a pet when he gets close enough to her. It’d never occurred to Mingi that what was important to San was equally as important to Wooyoung by extension, but something of that knowledge makes his heart warm gently.

It was like Yunho’s satchel and book. Those little things that sat well within his ribs like a treasure of his own. Because it was loved by someone he loved. Because it was something precious to his very own treasure.

“What’s the issue with this guy?” Wooyoung makes a small jab to Yunho, who’d fallen asleep after a mere minute of standing still. The only reason he wasn’t completely on the floor was thanks to Mingi exerting what little physical strength he had left to keep him upright. “He seems like he’s been through a lot— and he’s a thief? Who are you associating with now that royalhood is dead?”

“He’s someone whom I adore very much,” Mingi pouts. “Don’t judge him before you’ve met him. His stealing was justified, you know that. You wouldn’t have had so much dirt on that woman back there if you didn’t.”

Wooyoung shrugs at that, smile even more mischievous than San’s could ever be. However much San had made Mingi’s skin crawl with unknown danger, Wooyoung’s was at least tripled that amount. 

“I didn’t know a thing,” he says casually. “But shop owners all make the same few mistakes in the end, so it’s not hard to pick out one and watch them falter as though they’ve done it. The moment her face twitched, I knew she was a goner.”

“You’re really something evil,” Mingi sighs. He settles Yunho into the open carriage, situating him on his side so he’s sprawled against the seat. It looks uncomfortable with the way his legs hang off, but this was as comfortable as he could possibly get with the limited space. It didn’t help that both he and Mingi were too tall to fit as cozily as someone like Hongjoong might’ve.

Thinking of his father so abruptly is like whiplash— but it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.

“I do my best to help you and this is the thanks I get!” Wooyoung fakes a groan. “Working for brats like you is terrible.” 

Mingi wants to make a complaint at that— bicker like the old days where he and Wooyoung would get into it over the strangest things— but his mind is considerably calm right now. All he can think of is making sure San gets back okay and that Yunho gets a good rest, the latter of which he’s working towards by allowing Yunho to use his plush thighs as a pillow once he settles inside.

“Be safe, thief.” Wooyoung murmurs playfully to Yunho’s sleeping form. “You’re now royal property.”

Mingi bats him away with a laugh he attempts to stifle, though it proves pointless when Wooyoung nearly trips over his feet stepping back.

And Mingi knows it’d be cocky to say it now, but looking at the way his heart is filled with warmth and Yunho is sleeping safely and unharmed— well, he can’t help but think it all went well enough.

-☼-  
  


Wooyoung joins them for their journey with enthusiasm; eyes aflame with a glow Mingi’s not been used to seeing for a long time. He always had a knack for an inappropriately large amount of pizzazz when it came to just about anything, and in the recent days of enraged weather and Yunho’s increasing illness, it surprisingly helps his mood greatly.

Wooyoung is sweet when he’s not pestering someone or something. He clings to San sometimes in a quiet way— simply observing his lover’s side profile and watching him as he speaks. He has a tendency to nuzzle into San’s hair with his nose, to which the other springs into a thin-eyed grin that stays for at least another few hours. He also tends to Yunho with care and sends pouts his way when the taller breaks into a coughing fit. He feels for him, despite not having much to go off of besides his quiet slurred attempts at conversation and Mingi’s word that he is a good person. It doesn’t seem to irk him one bit, and definitely doesn’t keep him from allowing Yunho the right to use him as a pillow when he’s in need of a place to rest his head.

They get caught in at least another storm that San belatedly realizes they’ve not escaped until now because they’d kept up the pace with it, going in the same direction it’s been going for at least the past three days. They take the time to stay aside for a day— much to Mingi’s relief, because Yunho’s stomach was beginning to protest the constant ricketing— and get their bearings together.

Mingi lays out a few thin linens and jackets for Yunho to rest upon in the grass, arms clutching around his satchel with a vice-like grip that Mingi has to rub open every few minutes so he doesn’t break the skin of his palms with his piercing nails. His fever was getting closer and closer to breaking each day, which was a miraculous sight for the prince who’d begun to ache all over from tending to him night and day.

Yunho looks up at him with bleary eyes that have slowly started to gain more focus in the past few hours. His voice, too, is less hoarse and sounds more like he did when he had just woken up. His skin’s begun to glow again the slightest bit, and Mingi’s never been happier to see his lazy smile look simply that— lazy and unhurried. 

“The sky is blue,” Yunho says softly. “It’s been so long since it was last blue.”

“The weather at the estate is much better,” Mingi agrees with him. “I can’t wait to get back.”

Yunho hums at that, saying nothing as he turns his head towards the grass alongside him and takes a steady breath in and out. He looks at peace within himself, and Mingi refrains from the growing inner urge to ask Yunho that question that’s still managed to plague him for days.

_ ‘So, what now?’ _

It doesn’t help his nerves that Yunho hadn’t said anything in response to the idea of returning back to the estate with Mingi, which only drives him further down into this pit of regret as he ends up washing some of their dresses and skirts in a pond nearby. Would there be a time where he’d be back to washing only his few pieces of clothing?

_Yunho would want to be with Jongho,_ Mingi tells himself. _That’s something I have no say in._

But the idea irks him the slightest bit— Yunho’s been too tired and ill for them to talk about it clearly, and he still didn’t know where they stood. Would Yunho leave him behind for a life with Jongho? Would Yunho even want Mingi to be a part of his life after that?

_Are our days numbered?_

He thinks to himself for so long that he realizes with panic how long he’d let the linen soak, mind temporarily occupied with the worry of having ruined one of Yunho’s favorite dresses. 

-☼-  
  


As Yunho’s fever finally breaks and their small group moves closer towards their destination, Mingi feels as much of his worries increase as they do ease. Yunho and Wooyoung finally get around to having a non-medicinally induced conversation and Mingi has the privilege of seeing how well they get along. Yunho even takes to mimicking his laugh perfectly, which makes both San and Mingi nearly keel over each time with delight.

There are other minute changes that Mingi’s had the privilege of spotting— like how close Yunho is willing to get to him now. Days and nights of sponging Yunho’s body, feeding him medicine and holding him in every way possible for a comfortable sleep had brought their physical intimacy to a level that rivaled Wooyoung and San’s, which is something Mingi has never thought he’d be able to say of himself since his first day of seeing them rub up to one another.

The change is welcome, he thinks. Like now as they sit around a makeshift fire and eat some of the food Wooyoung had brought on him. Yunho’s side is pressed into Mingi’s and the prince feels at home like this, munching away happily with the warmth of someone he loves pressing into his side.

Referring to Yunho as someone he loves, though, has been an increasing factor of his worry.

“It’s nice to feel again,” Yunho says with an appreciative sigh. He’s long since finished his food and sits with his hands bracing his body, pressed into the dirt as he looks upwards and angles his body back towards the stars. _He looks beautiful in the light of a fire,_ Mingi thinks. _Absolutely perfect._

“My senses were all so stuffed up during it. I don’t know what I would have done without you there to care for me.”

His eyes are soft and loving when they turn towards Mingi; the kind of gentle that’s only directed with careful discretion towards someone who reciprocates what you feel. The kind of adoration that easily spills over one’s fingers and cannot be controlled— that shouldn’t be allowed to run free if not for the safe knowledge that it will be accepted and handled in full. Yunho looks at Mingi with that messy love in his eyes, and Mingi has to hold onto every last bit of sanity in his body to not just spring forward and kiss him breathless beneath the stars.

“It’s an honor to take care of you,” Mingi whispers. And as if to break his own heart just a little bit— just enough to make the moment a perfect memory that will haunt him, he adds— “I would do it out of my own free will any day.”

Yunho’s eyes widen just the slightest bit, a realization dawning on the both of them before he smiles again. It looks reassured. It looks wanted.

Mingi wonders if Yunho can see right through him.

“Yeah,” Yunho whispers. “Of course.”

-☼-  
  


Wooyoung and San retire first to the carriage, making up some haphazard excuse on a bet they had definitely not made, and that Yunho and Mingi had definitely not lost. It wasn’t all bad though, considering they’d left them a comfortable spot in the glade to stare upwards at the stars and talk of little things. It felt reminiscent of many days back at their estate, where they’d lounged around doing nothing and felt hidden within nature. Mingi had a growing itch to return back to his estate— and his life with Yunho, unbothered and unhurried— that was beginning to bother him more by the day. This was as close as they’d get for a long while, and Mingi hardly wanted to think of it with Yunho just inches away from his side as he pointed out random stars along the sky.

“Hey,” he says suddenly. His hand stops midair from pointing a certain star out and he turns to his side, finding Mingi in the same position and smiling when their eyes meet. “Can I ask you something serious?”

Mingi nods slowly, unintentionally afraid of everything that could possibly come his way. Despite Yunho’s eyes being welcoming and gentle, Mingi still feels a looming sense of dread.

“Why did you let me touch you, back at the hot spring? No one had ever...before...and yet you let me. Why?” 

The stars above them gleam— Mingi knows it like the fact that the world is spinning, or like the breeze is low and soft against their skin. He knows the world is suddenly enveloping them in a warm embrace he’s needed after so long of being tired. He knows all of this, and yet the world suddenly seems foreign to him.

The stars gleam, but Mingi sees nothing beyond Yunho’s questioning eyes as they look at him for an answer. A swarm of desperate feelings curl at the pit of Mingi’s stomach and beg to urge the conversation along in a way that could be colloquial and keep them lighthearted. He didn’t want to destroy all that he created. This— _this_ would dictate a lot of things. 

“I trust you,” is what he settles on. And the words aren’t a lie; could never be, despite everything. Even if Yunho came out tomorrow as a thief who stole solely because he wanted to, Mingi doesn’t think it’d change. He trusts Yunho in a way that surpasses lies or truth. He trusts Yunho in that way that let him put his heart in his hands and watch with bated breath as the former thief makes a decision with it.

Right now, if he squeezed just a little harder, Yunho could make it burst right between his fingertips.

“I trust you,” Mingi says again— louder, clearer and full of that confidence that his heart belonged to Yunho, come rise or fall. “I trust you to touch me. I trust you to take care of me. I trust you to love me the way that I—”

He sucks a breath in, and the stars are incandescent beyond measure. The world is singing right into his ears; little puffs of angelic breath that are weaving together a lullaby. Everything is _vibrant, vibrant, vibrant._

“I trust you to love me like I love you,” Mingi whispers. So quiet, he’d be unsure if Yunho heard him if not for the way his eyes widen like exploding stars. Like a body of perfection gone supernova right in front of his very eyes. “I trust you.”

Yunho seems unmoving for a few moments, just enough that Mingi would think he melded into one with the ground below them and was, in fact, a body of flowers blooming red and cream. It’s only after a small twitch from Mingi that Yunho moves again— leaning closer and bending to his elbows to nearly hover over Mingi’s shocked form. He rolls onto his back with Yunho planting himself over him, a blanket that keeps him from seeing the stars. In place of the constellations are the natural bruises and blushes of Yunho’s porcelain skin, and Mingi has never wanted to touch something so badly in his entire life. Never had an urge this strong just to come home to something. 

Mingi wants, and wants, and _wants._

Yunho says nothing when he leans in, lips caressing Mingi’s instantly with a familiarity that was all too postulate for not having kissed many times before. His tongue pokes out just enough to greet Mingi’s lips, which split open without protest at the first prod. They kiss leisurely, blanketed by the night sky and in no need for refuge from anything. The world was holding them dear in a small time capsule. Mingi feels immortal and yet insignificant at the same time beneath Yunho’s hold.

The shift is wordless against the grass, the only thing grounding them to reality being the rustling as they switch positions to sit upright. Yunho’s hands come to caress Mingi’s— cheeks, shoulder, hips— every little piece of skin and bone that was available to his fingertips. His touches are reverent and gentle, never rushed or tainted with uncontrollable lust. Yunho doesn’t touch Mingi like he wants selfishly, instead embracing him like he yearns and pines deep below his skin. There’s something inherently romantic that runs much more potently than Mingi had ever known to be real between two individuals. Perhaps a love that could only be rivaled by his fathers own. A love that was more epic than stories and visions of long-lost poets and scholars. Mingi feels his body burn with more fire, more song and tale than even something like Yunho’s little pocketbook of Romeo and Juliet. 

And that is something he treasures in the here and now, kept from floating away into the stars by Yunho’s hold on him that acted as a soft reminder— something was here for him in its entirety, and it would never leave him for a million years. Yunho kisses him like his soul is attempting to bond with Mingi’s as one, and the feeling leaves Mingi breathless and still wanting. Yearning. 

“If we—” Yunho pulls away with a wet pop, turning them both red in embarrassment for their haste. “If we do this here, it’ll be a little awkward.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” Mingi finds himself muttering. They both look downwards at that, bodies hotter than Yunho’s had been at the peak of his fever. “I mean...you know.”

Yunho laughs a little, eyes sweet as his lips are. 

“I don’t mind,” he whispers. “I just want to know you’re okay with me touching you.”

_Of course,_ Mingi wants to say desperately. _I would never want anyone else to touch me ever again. Not unless it was you._

But he feels his lips catch on such vulnerable words, instead nodding with red ears and cheeks. 

Yunho gives him a grin worth a thousand sunrises— and Mingi can’t help but feel he’d love to make that smile the one of a king.

-☆☼☆-  
  


Yunho lays Mingi into the bed of clothing the way he thought he’d be laid into a grand mattress on his wedding day. There’s that same sense of poise and devotion in Yunho’s attentive hands as he makes sure Mingi is laid just right among the clothing; some of which was beginning to turn green with the small blades of grass that had broken off in the wind and carried themselves near them. It wasn’t Mingi’s dream place to have his virginity delicately stripped away, but looking up at Yunho framed by a halo of stars and being swaddled by the scent of flowers and rain in the air, Mingi can’t find it anywhere inside of himself to say it feels wrong. This was very much them. It was as much a part of them as they were of it. 

“I want to be careful with you,” Yunho smiles at him gently. “But I also don’t want to make you feel awkward about it. Are you okay with me undressing you?”

Mingi thinks he makes a noise— the smallest peep of a sound that could resemble _‘yes’_ — because suddenly he feels Yunho’s large hands sweeping below his dress and rubbing his thighs down, spreading them apart with the softest nudge that was more so a suggestion than a forced move. Mingi’s dress today was much shorter than other days, only ending at mid-thigh, and he wonders briefly if Yunho had found it an attractive sight at any point.

He gets the answer when Yunho bends down quickly, nipping at his thigh with a soft bite of his teeth. It’s enough to make Mingi gasp and squirm, body already trembling with the promise of pleasure. 

“You’re so cute,” Yunho murmurs— a mantra of praise towards Mingi’s form as he continues to scatter little loving nips. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how your body shakes. It’s so adorable to me, that you get that excited that you start trembling.”

He lifts his body up enough to give Mingi a grin, lips spread wide as he leans forward and kisses him quick. “I’m happy knowing I can make you feel good; it makes me feel good too.”

Mingi finds himself grinning back at him just as hard, the both of them feeling filled to the brim with that revolving sense of importance. Knowing they looked after one another and did their best to take care of each other made Mingi feel warm. It was a love reciprocated. A strength that went both ways and came with a promise of protection in their weaker moments. They held each other up when they fell, and Mingi could ask for nothing better of a love this pure and cherry red.

“I’m going to start touching you below your dress, is that okay? I want you to get used to the feeling of my hands before we go any further.”

Mingi nods his consent to Yunho, tremors slightly born from nerves as he feels the other’s fingertips trace his inner thigh. One or two fingertips turn into four, which turns into a palm lightly tracing him, which in turn becomes a flame-filled grip along the highest part of his thigh just by his pelvis. Mingi feels his breath hitch in anticipation, waiting patiently but still unsure of what he’s waiting for. 

Yunho answers the question for him by rushing his hand upwards, clutching onto Mingi’s briefs and tugging them slightly. Not enough to bring them downwards or move them out of the way, but enough to constrict them against his cock and create a rough stimulation. Mingi jerks at that, lips parted as his body squirms even more. 

“Can I take this off?” Yunho’s voice is calming, sweet and measured to prevent the prince below him from shying away. He’s earnest with his touch, only moving as much as Mingi nods for him to. When he gets the soft okay, he reaches deep below the skirt and gives a light tug to the tip of his briefs, trailing them down the expanse of his legs and gently setting them to the side once they were completely gone.

It feels odd to Mingi, the rush of air that greets his bare body below the dress. It wasn’t cinched anywhere, leaving the open air to filter through and tug on his red, warm skin. He feels exposed and vulnerable and so close to asking Yunho to cover him— blanket him with his body as he’d been doing before to hide him away from the prying eyes of the stars— but the other must sense his discomfort as he lets his fingers dive back in below the dress, fondling the bones of his hips and trailing by his lower belly. 

“You’re really soft,” Yunho comments with a light laugh. They’re both embarrassed to a fault but Mingi would have it no other way. This was the first time his body was being explored, and whether or not it was Yunho’s first time exploring another person, it was his first time exploring _him._ It was something neither of them took lightly, and for that Mingi was grateful.

“Am I?” Mingi asks absentmindedly, not really caring for the answer as Yunho’s fondling hands finally nudge against his cock. He hadn’t realized he’d even been remotely aroused to the point of being hard until he hears the first squelch of wetness at the other gripping him entirely. It makes them both flush at the pitch of the noise, louder than they’d expected and much more lewd than either of them were anticipating. Mingi finds his eyes drifting to the carriage, a little ways off from them by the edge of the clearing. It wasn’t impossible for Wooyoung or San to get up in the middle of the night and find them in this position, which only caused Mingi to curl further and blush down to his shoulders with an aggressive tremble.

“Does it feel good?” Yunho wonders aloud, voice softer as he watches Mingi stare at the carriage before turning away. As if it’d change anything— or perhaps, just to give Mingi the smallest peace of mind— Yunho settles his body to the side of the prince and creates a barrier between him and the carriage. Mingi sees only Yunho when he turns again, which is enough to make his body ease a little more into the touch. At the new angle, his skirt was drifting upwards and Yunho’s hand was twisting at a much rougher angle. The friction makes him whine sweetly in affirmation, causing Yunho to grin like he’d won a prize. 

Maybe, in some way, he did.

“Here,” Yunho whispers. He pushes forward to knock their mouths together; more so an open breath into one another than an actual kiss, not that Mingi minded or cared. His mouth hangs open with the softest puffs of noise against Yunho’s, who tries to initiate small pecks in between to ease Mingi’s body further into the heady headspace he was falling into.

“I’m going to go higher,” Yunho murmurs. “And I’m going to touch you more, okay?”

A part of Mingi— perhaps the over-aroused and lust filled portion, wants to be annoyed with Yunho’s gentle step-by-step play of his actions. He wants to tell him to do as he likes, say that he has no fear nor any qualms and would gladly let Yunho do as he wants, but a much larger part of his tender heart is thankful towards him for wading him through this deep water with their hands held tight. It isn’t supposed to be a luxury, Mingi knows; anyone in Yunho’s place should have shown as much kindness, but in recent times of rough stares and ill intentions, Mingi was beginning to realize how unique and precious it was to have someone like Yunho at his side with as much patience as this. He was being held, and guided, and not once was he left to feel demur. He felt safe, which was a lot more than he had felt in a long while. 

Yunho was a makeshift safe haven, here even in the bare open air of the glade. Mingi feels enveloped by heat and kindness as Yunho’s hands do exactly as he’d promised: moving upwards underneath his clothing to rub at his stomach with a slick hand. He leaves a trail behind as he begins to tweak at one of Mingi’s nipples— an action that causes the prince to lift his hand to his mouth and swallow down a loud and relentless whine. He writhes beneath the touch almost violently, with Yunho’s other arm coming around his backside to cage him in gently. He holds him steady, back naturally arched with the new space of Yunho’s arm against his back and the ground, and the position makes Mingi writhe a little more.

There are whispers in his ears, he knows. Right beside the chorusing of the wind are Yunho’s praises and calming questions. He’s checking on Mingi every step of the way, though the prince has begun to feel his throat dry out and his mouth over salivate in a strange oxymoronic shift of his senses. He feels everything and nothing all at once— all-knowing and yet fucked dumb without even being touched further. It’s almost scary, the way his mind fogs over and his body trusts Yunho to just _do._ To take care as much or as little as he pleases, with Mingi’s trust entirely within him.

It takes a long while for Yunho to stop all his ministrations, glancing at Mingi and nuzzling into his temple. He removes his hand to trail up and down Mingi’s side, a whisper into his ear that the prince doesn’t quite catch.

“I think you’re going into a headspace,” Yunho smiles. “One that’s probably submissive or at least a little less conscious.”

Mingi’s brain lags behind the words, tripping over itself in an attempt to run by them again and again to pull out a meaning. He only latches onto one word— that being submissive— and finds his face turning bright red as he tries to wriggle away from Yunho’s touch.

“I’m so sorry,” are his first words. He sits up and curls his knees under him, squeezing them together and cringing when he feels the wetness tent the inner side of his dress. His hands cover his face and he feels embarrassment far down into the pit of his stomach. “This is embarrassing— I didn’t— it’s not—”

“Mingi,” Yunho calls firmly, demanding his eyes. Mingi doesn’t think twice before looking at him. 

“It’s really alright, okay? It’s your first time being touched and I know it’s a vulnerable moment. I’m glad you trust me, but I wanted to check on you to make sure I wasn’t doing anything you disliked.”

Mingi frowns at that, shaking his head and bumping it into Yunho’s so they rest against one another. 

“I would let you know if you did,” he whispers. “I promise.”

Yunho grins against him, head tilting up to catch Mingi’s falling forehead in a chaste kiss. “Let’s try this again,” Yunho says with an airy tone. “And if we need to slow down, you tell me right away, okay?”

Mingi almost wants to pout at him— tell him he’s not a child, that he can make his own decisions and knows exactly how to handle it— but just the thought of being swaddled and looked after and loved makes his head dizzy again. So much so that he nods like an innocent pup, watching Yunho with obedient eyes when the other lays him back down again and resumes his same movements.

He combines the stroke of Mingi’s cock with the twisting of his nipples, and it takes everything inside of Mingi just to cover his mouth with enough force to stifle the noise. As it was, even muffled, his sounds were still clear. Clear enough that Yunho could study them; clear enough that he could increase a certain touch when he knew it hit Mingi just right.

“I don’t think it’d be wise to undress,” Yunho comments breathily— like he was the one being touched so intensely and beautifully and with as much care. It makes Mingi’s lungs collapse within themselves; a thousand imploding stars sparking up a fire in his chest that burns with abandon. “Are you okay to keep your dress on?”

Mingi thinks they make a funny picture then— two men in an open clearing, flushed head to toe on a pile of lain clothing and blankets, clad only in their effeminate wear and confusingly in love. It’s every bit the caricature of a romance Mingi had thought was nonexistent, one step away from needing his suspended disbelief if it’d start to rain and they made love soaking down to the bone. _The stars are a fine substitute_ , he thinks surely. _The stars are much prettier around Yunho’s head._

Mingi finds himself nodding along to Yunho’s words without little thought, at this point reckless and uncaring for anything that wasn’t his arousal being satiated. He wants to feel Yunho close; all around and all-encompassing. If he had any more shamelessness then he’d even ask to be marked up and down and left a right mess, but the years of princely training pay off for one small thing. 

Yunho reaches below his skirt to pull away his own briefs, still covered and yet seemingly much more bared than he’d been before. Mingi thinks he feels the same way the prince had only moments ago, considering his cheeks tint a remarkable red once his bottom half is left shielded only by thin fabric.

Mingi feels grateful for Yunho wearing a matching shirt and skirt today, able to stuff his fingers up the top and rub at his ribs without having to move his shaky hands far up his skirt. He skims Yunho’s flank, brings his hands up to his shoulder blades and grips tight when Yunho settles atop him. Yunho reaches below the both of them to tug their skirts upwards, their bare fronts meeting in a friction Mingi was new and sensitive to. Their cocks catch on one another in a slow grind, his mouth opening again with sounds that Yunho muffles with his own tongue. 

With all the soft and delicate touches, Mingi finds his body wound up tight and ready to snap at any little touch. He tells Yunho as much, who slows his rotating hips and gives Mingi time to calm. 

“Do you want to…” Yunho looks contemplative, brows furrowed and lips caught in a pout that Mingi wants to kiss and bite away. He wonders what’s stopping him— but before he can act on those feelings, Yunho’s features iron themselves out into an easy and timid smile. “Would you want to go all the way with me?”

It’s a simple question that Yunho is asking, though it carries a lot of weight. Mingi had gone into this expecting for his virginity to be long gone by the end of the night, but now Yunho was offering him a choice as though they were both unsure. He looks at him with reserved hope, very much holding onto the edges of Mingi’s every word or move. 

He hasn’t felt this obeyed or in control since his days as a prince, and all things considered— it was a change he found very welcomed. If anything, it was a rush through his skin, and he answers Yunho with a searing kiss that he initiates, surging forward and gripping him tightly by his round cheeks. Yunho’s response is just as enthusiastic, his tongue thrusting into Mingi’s mouth with no hesitancy.

They simply kiss for a while, heartbeats in their ears as Yunho’s tongue takes a sinful twist along the inner muscle of Mingi’s mouth. He strokes at every part of him like he’s trying to memorize it; each and every bit seared behind his eyelids like a map of Mingi’s anatomy. There are quirks here and there of his movements that make Mingi react in ways he hadn’t even known were possible, and the way that Yunho seems to know them all right away makes his heart flutter. 

Yunho’s hands find purchase below Mingi’s skirt again, rubbing between his slickened thighs that were covered in combined precum. He drags through the small mess and pushes deeper up— catching finally on Mingi’s rim.

His response is immediate, a yelp that leaves him without notice. Yunho catches it into his mouth before pulling back, a small trickle of saliva at the edge of his mouth. He observes Mingi closely for any signs of discomfort before leaning back and licking the wetness away. It only serves the purpose of making their mouths more sodden, but Mingi doesn’t mind it at all when his brain is entirely focused on Yunho’s curious fingers. 

He feels the way his pads prod at the muscle, nowhere near rough enough to pierce it but enough to get it fluttering. Mingi has a million questions and no known way of asking any of them— his brain is scattered and his tongue is heavy and it’s a lot, all at once. He feels sensory overload and burning to the touch.

Yunho retracts his mouth again and whispers against Mingi’s lips. “Is it alright if I do this? Are you prepared?”

Quite frankly, Mingi isn’t. He’s never been. Sex education wasn’t something he went through and as he’d told Yunho a long while back in the hot springs, he wasn’t acquainted with his body at all. He’s easily frightened and at even the smallest of brushes, his body shakes like a leaf in the wind. And with all of that rotating in his mind, the answer should be no. He should be backing away from Yunho, questioning every little thing and wondering if it’d be better to do his research or find more familiarity with his body— but Yunho looks at him with a scrupulous devotion, and Mingi doesn’t feel afraid in his arms. 

He doesn’t know if simply looking at books or touching himself would ever make him ready, but Yunho’s touch on his skin eases him into compliance. He knows that even if it were as awkward as could possibly be, Yunho would still take care of him. 

And he trusts him. He knows he does. He loves him more than anyone or anything he’s ever loved, and he doesn’t care what comes next for them.

Even if Yunho went away and never came back again, Mingi still wants this memory to be with him. 

“Yeah,” he breathes into the stars like a secret. “Yeah, I’m okay. Go ahead.”

  
  


Yunho’s fingers are gentle as they prod at his entrance, having pulled away just a second for Yunho to slicken him up with all their combined saliva. It was partially embarrassing to know all they had to act as lubricant was their spit, but on short notice they had to make do with what they possessed. The fresh air has begun to cool Mingi’s body down as Yunho enters his first finger— and Mingi appreciates the breeze on his face when his stomach feels like it drops into the earth at the first push inwards. 

It’s not unpleasant, at least. But it sends a weird shock up and down the deepest part of his belly and makes his thighs tremble farther open. By now Yunho had tugged his skirt all the way up so that even Mingi’s cock was exposed to the soft wind, but he could find no need to complain against the feeling of exposure when he felt his body twitch in pleasure at every minute wisp of a move against him. He didn’t feel like he was burning alive, and he didn’t feel like he was shameful. Instead, his heart feels surrounded by a calm sense of warmth and his body is treasured between the hold of Yunho’s calloused palms. 

Yunho’s fingers are long— enough so that Mingi has pressed their palms against one another time and again only to find them of equal size. Mingi had often found his own hands to be ogled and praised by smaller maids and kitchen helpers who’d been impressed with his grip and hold, but it had never been much more than a polite envy for how much he could intake in a handful. 

Now, he understood a little better why Yunho having long fingers was something to be grateful for.

Every crook pressed against his walls just right, searching and fondling his deepest inner channel with a certain sense of eroticism that felt intimate and susceptible to control. Mingi had never even thought of being touched here, not even in his very few wet daydreams of Yunho, and actually feeling it was much different from any feeling he could have envisioned.

Yunho’s single finger turns into two, which ignites a flame that shoots up Mingi’s spine like a firework set to erupt at any moment. His noise is one of pain that causes Yunho to slow, bringing his free hand to rub at his side above his dress and keep him eased into the feeling. It takes a lot of deep breaths and pleads for Mingi to relax, finally allowing Yunho the necessary consent to keep moving at the promise of them holding hands. Yunho smiles at him with love and adoration at that, clearly endeared when their fingers slide into one another with the perfect amount of warmth travelling both ways. He pushes their palms closer together as he stretches Mingi open, retracting his fingers every few minutes to slicken them up with his mouth again and return back to the tight inner walls. He moves to three at a time with the prince’s discretion, still as attentive this far in as he’d been with his very first touch. Mingi finds the pain turns to pleasure like a slow dance that shifts into something exciting— and at the first press to his prostate, he nearly screams. 

“There!” He hisses, bringing his free palm up to latch onto Yunho's hand. He feels his eyes fill with tears at the sensitivity, whimpering steadily with each precise jab to his sweet spot. Yunho doesn’t let up, keeping his fingers pressed into that spot and overstimulating it with a gentle rotating rub of his fingers. Mingi feels his breath catch and his stomach pool in that familiar precursor to release— instead batting at Yunho’s hand with a cry to pull away.

Yunho follows his order easily, retracting his fingers at once and watching Mingi’s body shudder with the sudden denial of pleasure. He holds the prince in between his arms with a warming grip, pressing kisses to his forehead and letting him calm beneath him.

The moment the world becomes its most vivid and memorable is when Yunho lifts his own skirt up, nudging closer to Mingi and questioning with his eyes rather than his words at what to do next. Mingi loosens his grip on Yunho’s hand to bring them both to his hair, tussling his way through the matted black locks and giving him a grin as bright as the moon. 

“You know that I love you, right?” Mingi asks him suddenly— eyes all aglow and face hoping to convey every last bit of inner struggle that he’s been through for weeks turned months. He fought to get this close— fought to have any sense of happiness in his life ever again, which came readily with sunshine eyes and open arms in the shape of Yunho in his kitchen. It was boggling to think they’d gotten all the way here from that day in the middle of a Spring that felt so distant. 

Yunho, like he’s always done since the day Mingi met him, smiles with the warmth and shine of a thousand suns. All the stars in his eyes. All the shimmer of every gem upon his spread lips. Everything in the world that was good, or whole or lovely— everything that was Yunho, and that Yunho embodied. 

“I love you too.”

Mingi feels everything tilt with his body when Yunho presses forward.

Being entered isn’t something he thinks is supposed to be as important to him as it is, right here and now with their bodies melting into one as Yunho finds a home deep inside of him. It’s a foreign and uncomfortable feeling that makes Mingi’s eyes prick with tears for more reasons than he’s sure he understands yet. 

Yunho is steady, patient and solid above Mingi as he holds him. They’re pressed chest to chest, clothes still covering them and yet feeling as bare as the days they were brought into the world. Mingi wonders— endlessly, restlessly and desperately— if this is what sex is always like, or if it’s simply because this is something he’s experiencing with Yunho. He wonders how much of it is naturally otherworldly, and how much of it is Yunho filling up his senses until he’s nearly gone ignorant towards anything but the man above him. He itches to know if love can really make something this full all on its own, no say from his mind or his lips. _But there’d be no need to protest,_ he thinks. _I’d never want anything else._

And the wanting in him comes to a head when Yunho’s all the way inside of his body, pressed to the hilt and looking for confirmation from Mingi that this is everything he was hoping for. Mingi wants to cry in his arms, to lie there forever and question how Yunho could ever assume he’s been anything but good to Mingi. Anything but perfect.

The first thrust is electric— that type of all-over shock that treats Mingi’s veins like his organs belong to that of a live wire. It sends him sputtering and gasping, clinging to the need for purchase, finding it atop Yunho’s biceps with little shivers that wrack through him at every minute move. Yunho is so gentle and sweet with him that he praises him simply for waiting for him, and bearing his arousal that could have possibly hurt Mingi along the way. He thanks him for being beautiful, for being so sweet, for being willing to love Yunho as much as he feels loved by the prince— and Mingi can do nothing but let tears slide down his temples as Yunho kisses them away.

They don’t talk much as Yunho moves, rocking them against the earth with a grace to his movements that Mingi hadn’t known a person could possess. He’s beautiful from both above and below, the latter confirmed with the way the stars act as a backdrop to his portrait. Mingi wants to paint this vision forever, of Yunho above him, staring down warmly and reverently with a body that was warm to touch. Even in his wild and lust-hazy eyes, Mingi found love and observance. Yunho was nothing if not tenacious, and his need to be the perfect partner for Mingi’s first time sent the prince into an even further aroused frenzy. It’s all of those little things that make Mingi tighten up more, body welcoming Yunho in and attempting to hold him there. 

At a particularly rough thrust that sends starlight across Mingi’s vision, Yunho begins to sputter more and more praises to him. Words of comfort and kindness that keep the prince underneath him writhing and arching his back for more, begging with his hoarse voice against his own awareness. He’s unsure of who’s chanting _“more, please, more”_ until he feels his breath catch and the chanting hitches with it. 

There’s no embarrassment or self-consciousness between them anymore, completely communicative with their sounds and movements. Mingi finds his lips spouting a hundred prayers— all interwoven with Yunho’s name and curses he’s never said in such excess— and what isn’t a coherent plea is instead a gasping breath taken with a shudder, body spasming like a million little explosions making their way across the expanse of his insides. Yunho’s thrusts are aimed, timed, and executed with the smoothness of acquaintance. He pleases Mingi’s body like he’s been doing it his entire life; like it’s the only thing he knows how to do front and back. 

Yunho’s words slow to a mere mantra of Mingi’s name, mimicking Mingi’s own that have morphed his mouth into a permanent _‘Yunho’_ shape. Their lips can only curl around one another’s names, their tongues too heavy and thick with mindless hedonism that they’ve struck themselves restless and hungry. Yunho speeds his body up, holding Mingi by the bends of his knees and pressing them upwards. Mingi’s never been bent that far— had no idea he could, until now, and the effect is instantaneous. He lets out a cry that’s so loud it rings in his ears, shudders down his spine and causes him to squeeze tight with a lasting whine for Yunho to leave nothing behind of him. He begs to be consumed entirely; to be devoured alive in a fire so scalding that it’d leave no room for even a hint of ash. He wants to assimilate, fully and wholeheartedly with the ground beneath him and the man above him. To become flowers and Yunho’s breath and the stars and everything, _everything_ he’s never been and could physically never be no matter how much it pained him. With their bodies bonded and lifted towards a new realm of perception, Mingi never wants to fall back down to earth. He wants to feel that happiness of ruling a hundred kingdoms and having a thousand victories in war. 

He wants to know what it’d be like to have Yunho every day; to fall asleep to him every night. To take and be taken along every surface and in every way possible. As much as his body aches, so does his heart.

Because he wants too selfishly. He wants in such abundance that it can only liken itself to greed.

And he’s never wanted something so painfully as he wants Yunho. Wanting him so bad that even as he has him now, he still wants him more.

_Insatiable,_ his brain thinks as he’s thrusted into. And it’s chanted like a repetitive affirmation as Yunho drills deeper, as he lifts Mingi’s hips higher, as he kisses him dirtily with teeth and tongue and Mingi can do nothing but cry into his mouth.

His eyes spill over with tears, noises caught between sobs and moans as he whines for release and yet never wants this moment to end.

_Insatiable,_ he whispers to his heart when his body snaps like a rope that holds him up in the balance of the universe. And he falls, falls, falls back down with a crushing sense of finality. He falls to the pavement with his skull and his bones brittle as glass, shattering like the wilting petals of a flower falling apart. 

He cums with tears spilling copiously down his face, body stringing its high out as long as it possibly can while his sense of euphoria is ripped from him by the hands. His cries sink low into the earth, and Mingi can only hope that it’ll rot away with the rest of these unwanted feelings— this uncontrollable fear that was inevitable. Insatiable as he was were his nerves. They would never leave him.

Yunho holds him in the aftermath like he understands exactly what Mingi’s brain has done to him. He holds him and comforts him like he knows exactly where Mingi’s heart is— somewhere on the floor in a billion pieces that couldn’t be repaired. He doesn’t want it to be. He wanted it to be Yunho’s, in all its messy bits and parts that were useless by now. He was only good for love now; had found a way to reduce himself to nothing but spilling adoration for Yunho’s existence.

He doesn’t know what to do now, having loved and been loved by him.

He doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he wants this forever, even though he knew better than to yearn for it. He feels young and small and helpless; a prince watching his kingdom get torn to shreds and spread apart for consumption against his will. Except this time it was his heart, spread thin across Yunho’s smiling expression like the sheen of sweat that caused him to glow in front of Mingi now. He had given everything away entirely, and if Yunho wanted it he could walk away now with nothing hanging over his head. Mingi had given, given, given to hell and back— and there was nothing left now but to hope he’d be allowed to steal away even something as precious as a pleasant memory.

He was just one measly young man in the face of many greater things, after all. 

And he could defeat none of them.

After he is calmed by Yunho, who cleans them as well as he can and holds Mingi tightly against him for rest, the prince watches him drift into slumber. Yunho falls asleep with the rest of the world; dormant, but forever alive. Forever blooming and shimmering in a way Mingi could neither envy nor obtain— endlessly priceless and gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can always find me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/sanniedaize) I'd really love to make some writer/reader friends and socialize a little :)
> 
> Comments and kudos aren't necessitated, but I appreciate them so much and love to receive them from you guys. Leaving them behind also lets me know you like the fic, so if you have a chance consider leaving some :)
> 
> -n.


	4. IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally...we are at the end :(
> 
> I'll spare you the sappy paragraph-long author's note about how much I'm going to miss writing this! I know that typically all that does is make us feel melancholy LOL
> 
> Tiny warning that Mingi throws up (it's only mentioned briefly and honestly isn't that descriptive) and has vague symptoms of a panic attack! Honestly, it's all a little too vague to really warrant anything, but I just wanted to let you guys know on the off chance it'd make someone uncomfortable. This chapter is also like 70% hurt 30% comfort lol
> 
> Hoping that this'll be a good binge-read if you choose to read it all at once :)
> 
> Enjoy the final chapter and let me know if you'd like an epilogue!
> 
> -n.

The sunlight that pours over Mingi’s eyes awakens him with a set of harsh realizations.

The first being the ache in his back, strong and painful and sitting as a constant reminder of what he’d done last night. 

The second being just that— the reminder of last night.

He doesn’t regret it, much as a bitter part of his brain wants him to. It’s a beautiful memory that he feels he’s tried so hard to taint and tear apart, but it’s impossible with how perfect it had been. Yunho was truly the ideal person, and Mingi was just another one of the fools to realize this. He wonders how many people have been caught in his wave, thrashed around before being thrown back to shore, soaked to the bone.

It’s even worse when that thought is followed by the correction that Yunho is too gentle to thrash people around. Even in a heartless wave he’d still carry them safely, washing them along the shore with a gently receding hand. A lingering touch that is soft even up until the last moment, leaving them damp and yet cooled from the endless heat of the sun. 

Yunho could never hurt anyone, and it makes Mingi want to scream. He was hurting alone. He was hurting for no good reason on his own. He was hurting because he hurt himself, and Yunho would never be to blame for his own internal damage.

  
  


Yunho wakes up little after that to find Mingi staring down at his knees, fingers tracing a steady line up and down the little indents of lovebites he hadn’t thought Yunho would leave. Every touch was so soft and delicate that the thought of marks hadn’t even crossed his mind— and now they were here, in the flesh— on his flesh.

“When did you wake up?” Yunho rasps out to him, a hand coming to join Mingi’s in his tracing only to stop him. He interlinks their hands and gives Mingi a world-ending smile, the kind Mingi could never bottle, never make that of a king, never keep.

“Not too long ago,” he whispers back. His voice sounds foreign to his own ears, disembodied and far gone. He wanted to be happy in front of Yunho, to wake up and smother him in kisses. This wasn’t the morning after like he’d seen maids and kitchen boys have. This wasn’t a one time occurrence. This was something Mingi wanted for life, like his fathers had when they freshened up every day next to one another, tired eyes and vague noises coming from their mouths when they brushed their teeth and knocked their elbows together. Mingi wanted that. Mingi wanted _this_ to be that.

“Are you feeling okay?” Yunho asks, trepidation apparent with the way he sits up and tries looking into Mingi’s downcast eyes. “You look sad.”

“I’m alright,” Mingi huffs. “Maybe it’s just...post-coital blues.”

“Post-coital blues? Is there anything I can do to help?” 

Yunho’s eyes are so innocent, open and willing to obey Mingi. It’s _so hard_ to not just break down into tears and spill all of his concerns to Yunho. He wants him to know, wants him to quell every last bit of fear within him, but he _can’t_.

“No,” Mingi ends up saying. “It’s really nothing. It will probably go away on its own.”

Yunho backs away a little at that, still looking at Mingi with that same sense of caring sweetness as he’s been the entire time they’ve known one another. Mingi nearly feels sick to his stomach at how saccharine the sight is. 

He loves Yunho so much, he wants to do even this for him. To let their parting be natural. To let Yunho’s wave recede.

“If you need anything then tell me,” the other says anyway. “I know it was your first time, so I want to help you through whatever you end up feeling. You’re not alone, okay?”

His hold on Mingi’s hand tightens just a bit to create a reassuring squeeze before he lets go, standing up with the promise of getting Wooyoung and San to feed them breakfast and start them on their way.

Mingi responds with an empty nod, eyes still trained on the marks left behind from his greatest rise and harshest fall.

-☼-  
  


Wooyoung and San are all too eager to get them on the road. Mingi doesn’t realize why until they’re halfway up a steep hill and Wooyoung begins to complain from the outside of the village being extremely inconveniently located to be just beyond such a hard to travel area.

His stomach twists up so violently that he asks San if it’s possible to stop in the middle of their steep climb— to which he receives a chorus of groans and interrogation before the carriage door is tossed open by his own shaking hands. They stare at him in bewilderment as he drops on the slanted dirt trail.

He walks only four wobbly steps before he bends over, promptly emptying his stomach onto the ground.

“Mingi!” Wooyoung shouts, hopping off of Byeol where he’d been saddled behind San. He rushes to the prince’s side with trembling hands and tries to caress him through the sickness as much as he can, though he looks too shaken up to really do anything besides watch.

Yunho comes next, hands on Mingi’s biceps and squeezing lightly as if to say _‘I’m here’._ It makes Mingi’s eyes well up in tears, and in between his next gag and a sharp breath, he starts to cry.

“What’s wrong with him?” Wooyoung asks distressed, looking at Yunho for an answer as though he knew everything related to Mingi. Those thoughts come rushing back— of the other touching him like he was committing him to memory, of the way he’d been attentive to Mingi at every turn and bend, of all those small observations he was making as they so much as looked at one another. And it irks Mingi so much, that Yunho knows everything. It irks him that he couldn’t hide any of it; that Yunho probably knew him better than he knew himself.

“He’s anxious,” Yunho supplies with a sad tone. And Mingi thinks— _ah, there it is. There’s Yunho knowing everything again._

He can’t find it in himself to be angry. It has never been Yunho’s fault that he’s as soft and sweet as he is. It’s never been his intention to make a naïve little prince fall in love with him and think he could keep him forever. 

Mingi wonders how anyone could ever not love Yunho.

“Why are you anxious?” Wooyoung looks at him like he’s shocked down to the bone, a certain unfamiliar look in his eyes as if he couldn’t fathom the thought of Mingi nearly toppling over with worry. Maybe it had always occurred to the rest of them that he was wild beyond measure, and oftentimes thought little of anything beyond the steps in front of him.

Mingi has always been bold and vibrant, but he’s lost everything since then.

There was no point in being bold or vibrant anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he groans, throat burning something awful. San finally comes over with some water, asking him if he’s okay to travel the rest of the way. The tilting ground had only made his stomach ache worse, and the advisor figures that if they can get past it, Mingi would feel a little better.

But the thought of passing over this hill— of moving past what the others considered a hurdle— makes Mingi shake within his skin. On the other side of this hill was Jongho. On the other side was what Yunho prioritized most in his life, and what he’d been hunting for.

Mingi wanted Yunho. Yunho wanted the loose ends of his rough past to be tied up. Their interests and ideas didn’t coincide. 

It was as simple as that.

_‘So,’_ that tired and worn phrase rings in Mingi’s ears, _‘what now?’_

“Let’s go,” he says weakly. His tears have dried away into the embrace of the earth and the sinking of his skin. They were keeping this secret for him. They'd keep it forever, unlike his lips that quivered with the urge to stay it loudly and shamelessly. “Let’s go find Jongho.”

And they don’t question him as they settle back into the carriage and on their horse, travelling oh-so-slow the rest of the way. 

Mingi’s feelings sink away into the earth, and he belatedly wonders if he’d left his happiness somewhere a long time ago.

At the estate’s garden, or in the hot springs. Somewhere between the rustled sheets of their inn’s bed, or perhaps even in the dirt with the last breaths of his virginity.

But he knew better, sitting across from Yunho. He studies his form like it's the last time he'll ever get to see him. Maybe this would be.

He stares into Yunho’s sunny, golden eyes.

His happiness stares back at him.

-☼-  
  


Their arrival to the village is quiet, and Mingi feels a sudden sense of apathy at seeing the way the citizens there talk and play lightly. People of all ages enjoy the nature around them, all smiles and warmth. They look unhurried and grateful for their lives, even while doing activities as simple as picking flowers and berries from the bushes San stops the carriage by.

When the people look up at them, it’s not with disgust or revolt. They don’t stare at the carriage and stop dead in their tracks in fear.

In fact, some of the playing children run up to them. 

Wooyoung and San welcome them with a sense of parenthood in their eyes, sparkling beautifully as they introduce the children to Byeol, who seems just as ecstatic to see them as they are to see her. It’s a sweet sight that Mingi revels in the innocence of, hoping it’ll quell some of his remaining queasiness.

Yunho is the first to get down completely, his entire appearance glowing with youth and vigour. The children study his dress with innocent curiosity and it doesn’t take long before he’s being surrounded by them, each one wishing to play with the flow of his skirt and hang from his long limbs. He stands tall over them, but not in an intimidating way. Mingi can see the way he bends just a little, as though to play nice with his silhouette so they know he’s a welcoming and kindhearted person.

And he is. _Truly, he is._

“I’ve come to see a certain child,” he tells them sweetly. His voice is made of honey and dripping with little shooting stars that the children try to catch with their hands, entranced by how entertainingly joyous their new friend seems to be. The adults don’t even attempt to shoo them away, instead watching with little smiles as the children chant the question of who. They wanted to know who the kind man had come to see, and Mingi finds it almost humorous how they look and sound like a group of chorusing owls with their big eyes and their curious lips quirking into a small ‘o’ shape as they ask again and again. Yunho seems to find it hilarious too, seeing as how his face has broken into a near-giggling grin since the moment they’d approached him.

“A little boy named Jongho,” he says brightly. They all stop their choruses at that before looking to one another, whispers filling the space around their heads. Mingi takes the opportunity of that whispering silence to work up what little nerve he has left. He hops off the carriage with a bated breath, but no one pays him any mind as the kids suddenly scatter away. 

“What happened?” Mingi asks as he approaches Yunho. He notices him still looking at the space with a soft smile, only tilting his head towards Mingi when he repeats his question.

“They said they were going to find Jongho for me,” Yunho replies. His face is positively enraptured, a veil of bliss coating everything and tinting it in pearlescence. He looks happier than Mingi’s ever seen him.

Probably is happier than Mingi could ever make him.

“How long’s it been since you and Jongho have seen each other last?” Mingi finally thinks to ask. Months had passed since the fall of his kingdom, and Yunho had evidently not known a thing of the war until he was near Mingi’s estate. It could have been years, for all he knew.

“It’s probably been a year,” he sighs out, body stretching itself taut. Mingi watches him as he goes, eyes trained to every muscle and every movement. He could feel himself trying to burn a hole deep into Yunho’s body, but that much was impossible with an odd stare.

“Do you think he’s grown any since then?” Mingi wonders aloud, not truly concerned and yet curious at the same time. It was an interesting thought. For a moment, he considers what it’d be like to see his fathers now— after all this time apart, thinking of them in a past tense and wondering about them. A part of him feels his nerves tense up at that. Despite it being impossible, he can somewhat better understand the eagerness that lies within Yunho as a motivator to see Jongho as soon as possible. Mingi wonders if he’d been an obstacle for that. If the reason why Yunho was all the more eager was because Mingi had indirectly denied him of this very moment for so long.

But he stops himself, knowing it’s not about him. This moment belongs entirely to Yunho, and Mingi was little more than a bystander to it. 

“I don’t know,” Yunho comments honestly, looking taken aback by Mingi’s question. “I’d never thought of that, really. I’ve long since assumed him to be the same as always, though now that you’ve said that— a year is quite a long time, isn’t it?”

Mingi nods to that, wordless and empty. What little energy he had was beginning to dissipate like a snuffed flame, and Yunho’s attention turns back to the small group of children running back his way.

“Jongho says he wants you to come to his house!” One of the children shouts. He’s a cute little boy with squirrel-like eyes that Mingi finds himself paying deep attention to. His smile and his demeanor seem kind hearted, which was interesting to notice in a child on such short perception.

Another child saddles up next to him, his eyes sharper than his friend’s and his voice a little deeper when he talks. “Seoho, it’s a little mean to talk to adults like that.”

_Seoho_ — as Mingi now notes him, turns back to the boy with a pout, sighing before he turns around again. “Jongho doesn’t like meeting strangers unless it’s on his turf. You have to come to him, ‘cause he says he won’t go to you.”

“Jongho said all that?” Yunho asks with shock, eyes round and innocent as Seoho nods and gives him a sweet smile.

The other child steps forward with serious eyes, though the moment he and Mingi make eye contact he shrinks back a little. “He’s just careful is all. He doesn’t trust people much.”

Mingi smiles at the child, finding himself moving closer and giving him a small nod. 

“It’s understandable,” he mutters to him softly. “Thanks for letting us know.”

The child flushes a gentle red before nodding back, a soft smile playing on his lips that makes Mingi feel light inside. He seems to be a sweet child, and Mingi can’t help but reciprocate the timid grin. 

“C’mon Geonhak,” Seoho says brightly. “We have to go tell the others, they’re probably curious anyway.”

Geonhak follows him easily, and Mingi watches them go hand-in-hand, words on their lips of their next plans. It was startlingly nice to see people at peace, simply living their lives in a carefree manner such as those two children. When the apathy fades away at the sight of them, Mingi feels himself smiling.

It quickly becomes one of the very few times where he feels he did a good job as a prince, seeing how the aftermath allowed some to stay happy. 

-☼-  
  


As helpful as Seoho and Geonhak had been, they never actually gave Yunho or Mingi any directions to where Jongho was. They get them from a boy named Youngjo, who eyes them up and down constantly and asks them what they could possibly need Jongho’s address for. It takes a lot of convincing for him to acknowledge their story as reality, though his eyes still shift with distrust when he finally does tell them.

“If you try anything weird,” he says to them with seriousness, “I’m gonna make it really hard for you guys to leave.”

Yunho and Mingi both accept his threat with grim nods.

They meet a few other children on the way there, each with a different personality to them and much brighter than they let on. It’s nearly whiplash for Mingi’s looming nerves to be so genuinely entertained by the new set of people he’s meeting just trying to get to Jongho. It seemed like not a single person didn’t know Jongho, and all of the children had a very tight relationship with the boy.

_It must be hereditary,_ he smiles to himself. _To be loved by everyone they come across._

Children aside, Yunho and Mingi finally track down the sole location of Jongho’s “residence”— which turns out to be an orphanage where all the children live. The pieces fit together rather easily as to why he’d been close to everyone; they were all family in one way or another.

Outside of the orphanage, Mingi sees all of their new young friends enjoying themselves. Seoho and Geonhak play a game of tic-tac-toe in the dirt, Youngjo sits with his head in front of a smaller boy named Hwanwoong, who’s braiding it along with another boy named Keonhee— and they all look peaceful. When Yunho and Mingi approach them, they give them small smiles and nods, Hwanwoong reaching up to point to a particular window along the orphanage’s many. 

“He’s in there,” he says cheekily. “Probably with Yeosangie. There’s also some twins, look out for ‘em.”

True to Hwanwoong’s words, Yunho and Mingi find two little boys of similar appearance in the entry hall. They give them harsh, scrutinizing looks before disappearing deep into the house, which Mingi’s begun to realize resembled the inn they’d stayed in before.

“I wonder if your father designed this place,” Yunho says absentmindedly, removing his shoes at the front and placing them gently into a small cubby. They barely fit, with the little nook being made for children’s shoes, but he makes it work all the same.

“My parents tried to make a lot of shelters, but I’ve never even heard of this town.”

It was true. Mingi hadn’t heard of anything this far out past the lands— but then again, perhaps that was for the better. This village hadn’t been claimed by any prideful kingdom. It was left in a state of purity, untouched.

It was a perfect place for Yunho to stay in. 

“Maybe it’s for the better,” Mingi voices aloud, propping his shoes against the wall in place of taking up a cubby. He doesn’t comment anymore as they walk further in, trekking up the stairs carefully and trying to pick out the room with the window Hwanwoong had pointed to.

When they find it, they open the door to a blonde boy hanging up a tarp. He looks at him with curiosity for the first few seconds, though it quickly turns into fear. He drops the tarp and bolts to the direction of the closet, attempting to open and close it before Yunho walks further in and blocks his way.

“What’s your problem!” Yeosang— _yes_ , Mingi recognizes him from the paper the closer he gets a look at him— looks up at Yunho with angry tear-filled eyes. Like he’s been betrayed, though they haven’t even properly met just yet.

“I’m looking for my brother,” Yunho responds softly, face gentle and held together by that same patience Mingi’s seen him exert towards him most of the time. That was what kept him from breaking down or lashing out.

Mingi was no better than a shaken kid. 

“Your brother’s not here,” Yeosang frowns. “So just go away!”

“Hold on,” Yunho sticks his hands out in front of him, making a show of surrender towards Yeosang so he stops acting hostile. “My brother is Jongho. Jeong Jongho. You know him, don’t you?”

Yeosang stills at that, tiny hands balling into even smaller fists as he suddenly swings one at Yunho’s stomach.

It’s not strong enough to send him down, but it is enough for Mingi to come near him and push himself between their bodies. Yeosang looks up at Mingi with a tear-stricken face, and it’s at that expression that Mingi knows.

This was the one thing he knew better than Yunho. This was something he understood, clear as day and glass and _himself_. Yeosang looked like a small mirror image of his own agony. There was a reflection in his eyes that Mingi knew— that he had familiarized himself with every time he looked into the bottomless pit of any reflective surface these days. 

Yeosang was terrified. Terrified that Yunho was here to take Jongho away from him.

“I’m Mingi,” he says plainly, unsure of how to get Yeosang to calm down.

That seems enough for the young boy though, who backs away with studious eyes and drops his fists to his side. “I’m Yeosang. What do you want?”

“I came here with Yunho to find Jongho so they could be reunited. But I don’t think you want that to happen, do you?”

Yeosang’s breath hitches at that, his eyes still pouring over as he stares down at his socked feet. He was petite, even for a young child, and Mingi feels his fragility deep in his bones the way he’s sure Yeosang feels caught red-handed.

“You don’t want that to happen?” Yunho whispers behind him, peering over Mingi’s shoulder with a heartbroken face. “Why not?”

“I think Yeosang and I should talk alone,” Mingi says softly into Yunho’s ear. The taller frowns at that, but backs away when Mingi looks at him like he won’t budge. Not for this. 

He closes the bedroom door behind him, promising to wait in the hallway until their conversation is over. Mingi gives him a small nod in thanks before turning his attention back to Yeosang, settling onto his knees and smiling softly. 

“You don’t want Yunho to take Jongho away, do you?”

Yeosang bites his lip at that, eyes tearing up even more as he shakes his head. Mingi can tell the exact moment he gets embarrassed by his own actions, eyes coming up to furiously wipe his unshed tears away.

He grabs the boy’s hands within his own, cradling them like he would his own fragile heart.

“I know what that feels like,” he says, feeling soft and sad; the way Yeosang’s small face looks. “I feel the same thing for Yunho, did you know?”

Yeosang looks up at that, his tear streaks drying up as he sniffles. Up close, Mingi can see all of the small quirks— his little cherry birthmark and his porcelain eyes. He resembles a small doll, which makes Mingi feel even worse knowing that he can manage a look of such intense melancholy atop his youthful and flawless features. _He’s too young,_ Mingi thinks. _Too young to know something that hurts this deep._

Just like Mingi; just like Yunho. Too young to be this alone and afraid.

“You don’t want him to go?” Yeosang asks with a broken voice. It was a little deeper than other kids, Mingi notes. Resembles his own when he was a child, and how Geonhak had sounded. Those voices that would likely turn into a deep honey river when they got older. 

“I don’t,” Mingi whispers. “I feel scared to let Yunho go. But I don’t want him to be sad, either. You don’t want for Jongho to be sad, do you?”

Yeosang shakes his head at that, eyes wide and frown spread all across his face.

“Then you have to let him meet his brother,” Mingi pleads. “You can’t let Jongho be sad.”

“But—” Yeosang’s lips crinkle with a grimace, eyes filling with tears again and spilling over before Mingi can even stop them. “Why can’t Jongho be happy here with me?”

_Why can’t Yunho be happy with me? Why can’t I satisfy Yunho on my own? Why can’t I be exactly what he needs the way he is for me?_

Mingi smiles, something gently resigned and full of a tired, loving acceptance.

“Because what brothers are to one another is different than what we’ll ever be to them.” He brings a hand up to brush one of Yeosang’s dirty blond locks away, revealing more of his soft skin and his birthmark. “Yeosang, do you love Jongho?”

Yeosang nods without even a second of hesitation. He nods so much he nearly stumbles from being dizzy, Mingi’s hand coming to the small of his back to support him.

“I love Jongho the most,” he says with conviction. So small and yet already devoted. Mingi really sees himself in the boy, despite the fact that their forms of love were leagues apart. Mingi wonders— faintly, like a whisper in the back of his mind— if Yeosang will grow to be as aimlessly devoted to Jongho the way he is to Yunho. 

“And I love Yunho the most, which is why I’m willing to do this for him.” Mingi pulls his hand away from Yeosang’s back, instead offering it to the boy in front of him. “Will you join me? Will you do this for Jongho— because he is most important?”

_Will you let him go like I will?_

Yeosang nods, timid and afraid to be lonely, but Mingi holds his hand steadily as they walk towards the door.

At the very least, it was nice to know he wasn’t alone.

-☼-  
  


Yeosang apologizes to Yunho with a soft, mumbling tone that signals his embarrassment. Yunho accepts it readily, finding Yeosang’s reluctance and shyness to be cute. In a way of making peace, the little boy promises to fetch Jongho so that they can reunite, to which Yunho and Mingi both ecstatically nod and agree to sit on the living room couch.

The twins from earlier come to greet them, which Mingi and Yunho are both delighted to see. They’re two sides of a coin— little boys named Dongju and Dongmyeong— with contrasting personalities that fit well into the gaps of one another. Mingi finds them sweet and entertains them alongside Yunho for the time being, before they get bored and waddle away with their hands intertwined. Mingi’s felt the love and bond that runs through the orphanage firsthand, and a part of him feels for Yeosang’s slowly breaking heart. What they had here was perfect, and destroying it seemed cruel.

But Yunho seems to pay no mind to any of that, hands balled up on his lap and legs fidgeting with each passing minute. He’s finally begun to look anxious, which Mingi thinks came a lot later rather than as quick as it should have.

“Are you worried?” He asks the taller, watching him jolt a little at the sound of Mingi’s voice. He turns to the prince with a sheepish grin, a hand coming to scratch at the crown of his head like he’d done so long ago.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A little.”

Yunho sighs, trying to stretch his legs against the floor as he leans back onto the couch. He’s a vision, hair swept away naturally as he curls his defined neck against the cushions. His eyes open and close slowly, like that of a babydoll, and Mingi feels that acute punch of want travel through him, however inappropriately timed it might be. 

“Do you think he’ll want to see me?” Yunho suddenly asks, abrupt and clipped. When he turns to Mingi, his eyes are full of doubt. 

“You came all this way, and only think to ask that question _now?_ ” Mingi snorts at his sudden tentativeness, shaking his head before he throws himself back onto the couch alongside him.

“I just...can’t help but wonder if I’m screwing up something that was already fine without me.” Yunho keeps his eyes trained on Mingi, who watches them catch in the light the same way they had at the estate— the light latching onto his shaken and shrinking pupils just right.

“Mingi, what if what I’m doing is _wrong?”_

Mingi had previously thought that if this moment had ever come— of Yunho questioning his actions and tracing back the way he came— he’d have jumped at the opportunity to turn them away and send them back to the estate. They could be happy there, selfishly ignoring the rest of the world and whatever it had to offer.

But he thinks of many things: Yeosang’s stare, the times he and Yunho had been there for one another, the way he misses his parents.

Those things form a different version of Mingi, making him question the usefulness of the thought that he’d be selfish the moment he was given the chance. It was more so a fantasy, if anything. He doesn’t understand how he could ever be selfish enough to turn Yunho away from something, especially after all this time Yunho’s spent doing exactly the opposite.

Yunho was a selfless thief. Mingi wonders how he could have let that pass him by without it teaching him his most important lesson.

So instead, he braves his own feelings.

He ignores his heart the way a noble prince should. The way he should have all along.

“He’s your brother,” he sighs out. “No amount of time or space in between the two of you can change that. Look at all the good he’s done because of you. You really want to tell me that you’re not sure if he’ll want to see you? He idolizes you, Yunho. Even after not seeing you for nearly a year.”

Yunho’s lips twitch, quirking up in an awkward almost-smile that he couldn’t fight. His shoulders loosen a little and his posture slackens against the couch. He looks happy— somewhat nervous still, but happy all the same. 

“I really don’t know what I’d do without you, Mingi.”

The prince tries not to tense up at that, instead humming along in a passive manner as though he finds Yunho’s words humorous. He doesn’t, but it’s better than getting into a long and painful conversation about their inevitable future. 

Yeosang ends up coming back a few minutes later, eyes wide and sparkling as he holds open the front door. He was just tall enough to hang onto the knob, which Mingi had noticed was placed low from the moment he entered. He wonders who takes care of the kids, he wonders who made this place— he wonders many things, though they all stop short when Yeosang moves his small body to the side to welcome another in.

And there in the doorway, with Yunho and Mingi standing stock still as they gaze over the small boy, is Jeong Jongho.

  
  


Yunho’s reaction is immediate. One moment he’s stood still in shock and the next he’s running towards his brother, scooping up the boy in a large bear hug that keeps the little one tucked deep into his chest. Jongho’s giggles are soft and reserved, but Mingi can hear the love ringing loud and clear through them. 

If he knew not of Yunho’s journey, Mingi would assume Jongho was simply welcoming Yunho home. 

They stand like that for a while, with Yunho holding Jongho’s small figure to his heart and rocking the both of them side to side. He supports Jongho’s lower half with one arm wrapped around his bottom, the other against his back and settling a hand into his hair. They had the same color— that fluffy soft black that fell in little curls and waves of unruly volume. It made them look like little bears, though now one was big and the other was small.

They looked like brothers indeed. Mingi’s heart aches in mixed emotions at the sight of them.

Yeosang must feel the same, considering the way he shifts side to side on his own feet and waits patiently for Yunho to set Jongho down. It takes a long, long moment for him to do so, but once he does Yeosang is moving closer near him. He doesn’t latch onto his side, but his presence is a shadow to Jongho all the same.

Mingi figures it might be a quiet, discreet devotion. The kind that would make Yeosang trail after Jongho casually and glance over at him only once— needing only that single time to notice if anything was wrong. With time, Yeosang would become deft and observant with little flaw to his skill. He’d know Jongho like the back of his hand if he didn’t already. 

Yunho and Jongho talk of many little things, the older brother sat cross legged on the floor as his little sibling plopped himself down and gently tucked his knees below him. Mingi finds Jongho to be the most well-mannered child he’s ever seen. His eyes are bright, his smile is toothy and showcases his gums, and not once are his giggles shrill and lively. He doesn’t try to move too much, staying still with attentiveness as opposed to squirming. The little minute details of his behavior clue Mingi in on how they were raised, the both of them gentle with one another and sweet with their tone. They seemed...loving. They looked and felt as though they were only accustomed to a house full of love.

Mingi misses his fathers right then, an overwhelming sadness making him stand and ask them if he can pull away for just a moment for fresh air. 

“You’re not still feeling sick, are you?” Yunho’s eyes survey him with care— that lasting attentiveness that still manages to make Mingi’s heart flutter with a gradual ache. 

_It isn’t fair,_ he thinks— stubborn and baseless like a child. 

_It’s not supposed to be,_ he reminds himself.

“I’m alright,” Mingi smiles, headed for his shoes by the door and watching as the other trio of eyes stay burning into his backside. “Just need to go outside for a moment. I think the air in here must be stuffy.”

“It is,” Yeosang says quietly. When he and Mingi make eye contact, he sees his words loud and clear.

“Can I go and join Hyung?” Yeosang turns to Yunho and Jongho, clearly uncomfortable with the way his hands won’t settle in his lap. He’s begun to fidget— though only minutely.

“Of course,” Yunho smiles at him. “Me and Jjongie will stay here.”

-☼-  
  


Mingi finds himself outside the orphanage, perched on a cement ledge that came off of the buildings side. It doubled as a bench, which Mingi is grateful for as he settles back onto it and looks upwards towards the sky.

The weather’s been entirely blue for little over four days, which he’s noticed now more than ever with all the storms they’d had to weather to be here. It was strange how the weather was that of a good mood, but Mingi could find it nowhere in him to be anything but melancholy.

He finds Yeosang approaching him with careful eyes, hands holding out a cold banana milk that Mingi takes gratefully. 

“Will they move away?” Yeosang asks quietly, kicking the rocks beneath his feet as he takes a seat a little ways away from Mingi.

The prince hums in uncertainty, opening his banana milk and nursing the small carton between his hands.

“I’m not sure.” He takes a deep breath in, tipping back the small carton to take a drink of the milk. It tastes good. Tastes like childhood and long distant memories of sitting between his fathers at a table with crayons sprawled all across. Memories of Seonghwa trying to keep his hands from getting sticky and Hongjoong laughing heartily at the sight of his husband fretting over something as simple as messy fingers. Mingi misses those days; knowing he can’t get them back he swishes the liquid inside his mouth and swallows it slowly, savoring the taste as though it were all the memories going down the drain.

“I don’t really know what’s gonna happen,” he elaborates more to Yeosang, who looks at him with expectations Mingi could never meet. Despite being the adult in this situation, he felt little older than the boy before him. “I don’t think I thought that far ahead.” 

“I’m scared,” Yeosang whispers suddenly. “Is that...bad?”

Mingi moves a little closer to him, knocking their cartons of milk together and watching as Yeosang smiles slightly, knocking his back in retaliation.

“It’s not bad. I’m scared too.”

Yeosang smiles a little wider at that, looking less bashful knowing that the prince was right there with him. They share another small set of grins before they go back to drinking their milk.

And it’s not all that bad, really. Mingi wonders if he should stay here with the rest of the children— look after them and let them fill the void that being an orphan himself had created. Maybe it wouldn’t be all that awful under the blue sky.

“We can be scared together, okay?” He tells the little boy, watching as Yeosang nods before his brows scrunch in concentration.

“But,” Yeosang mutters, “I don’t wanna be scared forever. So just for now.”

Mingi finds himself laughing at that, nodding along to his words.

“Yeah, just for now.”

  
  


Yunho and Jongho come outside only a few minutes later, eyes searching immediately and both latching on in twin expressions when they see Mingi and Yeosang sat on the side with their milk cartons and their teeth on display.

“How are you both?” Yunho asks cheekily, watching the two of them bond quietly. In his much milder mood, Mingi finds Yeosang to be pleasant company— which is something the boy must reciprocate, having been content with sitting in the silence next to him.

“I think we’re getting along just fine,” Mingi shrugs. “Don't you think so, Yeosangie?”

Yeosang gives a polite nod, eyes wide and fidgety as he looks up at Yunho once before looking away.

Jongho is quick to come to the boy’s side, eyes shining as he asks Yeosang what he’s been up to and if he’s made any plans. The boy doesn’t shy away from the attention though, instead answering coolly with a sense of comfort that Mingi can see clearly.

It’s sweet. What they have between them is sweet.

“Well then,” Yunho sighs. “I think it’ll be time soon for us to make living arrangements.”

And _ah,_ Mingi thinks. _Of course._

_Of course, of course, of course,_ his brain supplies dumbly. He repeats to himself a billion times as though to say— it’s _here_ ; this moment is finally here.

He was staring into the face of the very thing he’s been dreading, and for a moment it almost feels unreal. He feels like a stranger to his own body; confused and apathetic towards everything around him.

_Of course,_ he thinks plainly. He feels nothing when he thinks it. Of course.

Yeosang is the first to pipe up, his eyes sharpened again and his lips twitching towards bearing his teeth. Mingi only manages to conjure up the thought for a split second that Yunho hadn’t really done anything towards the boy but threaten his comfortable life since he’s come here, and he wonders if Yeosang hates Yunho— truly, and with abandon. 

“Why are you going to take Jongho away?” Yeosang asks roughly, the smallest depth of his voice picking up with his volume. “You’re selfish! You just take whatever you want!”

Yunho looks taken aback by his words, eyes wide with a frown to match as he shakes his head in confusion. 

“I’m not taking Jongho away from you,” Yunho reasons. “It’s not like that. He’s my brother and we’ve always been together.”

“He doesn’t _need_ you!” Yeosang spits back. His hand comes around Jongho to pull him behind his small frame, despite the way Jongho continues to show through as he’s larger than him. “You can’t just take him away forever! Then you’d be stealing, and that makes you a _thief!_ ”

The word doesn’t sit well with Yunho, who flinches harshly at the accusation.

“Sangie,” a soft voice rings through. Mingi turns towards the small lilt of sweet breath, watching Jongho’s hand come up to cup Yeosang’s wrist. “Please be nice to Hyung. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He’s going to split us up,” Yeosang whispers back. His voice crackles around the edges, and no matter how strong he tries to appear in front of Jongho, the fact still stands that he’s only a child. “We promised that we’d always stay together.”

Yeosang’s eyes turn soft— softer than Mingi’s seen them this entire time. He looks gentle and heartbroken, the same way Mingi feels. “You _promised._ ”

Jongho nods at that, turning up to Yunho with round eyes and tilting his head to the side. “Can’t you take us both with you?”

Yunho stops at that, a brow quirked as he looks at the two of them. Yeosang moves in front of Jongho again, small body standing stiff with his heels digging into the dirt. He almost looks like he’s challenging Yunho— which is something that would make Mingi laugh, if not for the sincerity of the action.

There was no compromise to be made in that little boy’s eyes. It was all or nothing. Yunho could take the both of them or leave the both of them alone.

And Mingi has to hand it to him; Yeosang has more tenacity to stay with Jongho than he’s ever had. He wishes he had that same level of shameless love— the kind that makes you foolish and brazen. He wants to stand in front of Yunho now and beg for him to stay in his life, forever singing and dancing along his kitchens and sleeping soundly in his gardens.

It feels strange to see a boy not even half his age showcase all of his inner desires so desperately, uncaring of how it made him seem. His mind was trained on one goal only, and he looked like he’d raise hell if he didn't get it.

“We can talk this over,” Yunho says softly. “But I promise I’m not trying to tear you guys apart. If we can make it happen, then I want to keep you together. Losing someone you love is never pleasant. I’d never want to do that to someone else.”

Yeosang breaks into a starlit grin at that, turning around and allowing Jongho to hold him in a bone crushing hug. Mingi feels himself wincing at how tight the grip on the thinner boy looks, but neither of them seem to mind as they continue to hug. It’s the only sense of affection they show, because when they pull away they simply go back to standing next to one another, hands tapping by each other’s sides but never intertwining. 

_I really must be lonely,_ Mingi thinks bitterly. _Admiring a child’s bond like this._

He shrugs it off, walking with Yunho and the kids as they talk of everything and nothing at all. Yeosang becomes slightly more talkative as they go, though Jongho does the majority of the work for him when Yeosang gets too shy. It’s cute to see the way they cover one another, never leaving a gap too far behind or too big to fill. They work well as a team, and Mingi can’t help but think they’d grow to be a fine duo in whatever capacity their hearts would allow them.

He wishes them all the best, knows they’re genius children with a bright future ahead that could only get brighter with Yunho in it.

And still, he wonders where he fits among all that.

-☼-  
  


A day passes by of the visiting adults just playing with the kids. San and Wooyoung take a particular liking to roughhousing and wrestling with the children, always one step away from something mischievous or directly against their elders orders. Mingi would call them a bad influence, but as he loosens up and allows his borrowed euphoria to take over, he ends up being more or less the same. He and Geonhak form a nice pact to help the little boy with his social skills, and Hwanwoong takes to hanging off of him like a little gremlin nearly all the time. Mingi feels rested, for once. His brain focuses on something other than his stomach churning relationship with Yunho and where it hangs in the balance of things. Being with the kids and among the flowers just teaches him to be in the here and now. 

He thinks his fathers would love this. Seeing him like this, doing as they’d done nearly all of their lives. Now he sees where their endless love had stemmed from. Even when running dry, in the face of generosity Mingi had always seemed to hold an abundance. 

Their day in the sun and night underneath the stars comes to a close that leaves Mingi boneless, slinking into a free bed at the orphanage under the discretion of the neighborhood elders. As it turned out, the children had no direct parent or guardian, and instead were raised as a whole by many different people with many different views. It was sweet, but at the same time a little bitter to Mingi. He couldn’t imagine life being raised by friends and elders as opposed to parents. It didn’t seem awful...but he can’t help but think they’d make a lovely family if they had a designated guardian. 

A small part of him dreams in his bed, eyes wide open and heartbeat pounding in his ears with joy, about the thought of being their guardian. To be able to guide them through life and grow plants with them and simply watch over them with warmth filling his heart. He’d never had siblings, and even less children his age to call friends, but Mingi was more than excited to be surrounded by people he felt he could enjoy the company of. 

His dreams are filled with that idea, and as he wakes up the next day, he finds himself proposing a pipe dream to the elders.

  
  


“I want to take the kids with me back to the estate,” he says confidently over tea. He didn’t particularly like tea besides the lemon kind Yunho had gotten him to try, but it was all they had to offer and he wasn’t one to refuse. Even less so when he realizes that accepting it was the least of well-mannered customs he could follow when he’s asking for something as important as the custody of their children. 

An old woman glances at him with shock, looking as though he’d directly offended her well-being and her family as she surveys him up and down. She fixes him with only a one-word response, that being a very curt and confused— “Pardon?” 

“I want to take the kids with me to the estate,” he repeats himself. “I want to raise them all as my own. Maybe as a guardian or a teacher...however they’d choose to see me. But I want to raise them all there. It’s more than spacious enough and I want to give back at least a fraction of what my parents had given me growing up.”

Indeed, the knowledge of him being prince has been brushed over by most in favor of equal hospitality, but the fact still remains there. He doesn’t use it to hold any power over their heads, but it does drive home his inherent need to care for those around him. This was something he had more than enough time and resources to do. And he knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he had successfully fallen in love with every small heart that had beat around him within the past day or so. He saw them like the beginnings of family already, and at the blessing of those who checked in on them periodically, he wanted to be the adult that would check on them full time. 

The elderly woman says nothing, instead settling into her seat and bringing a napkin up to her lips to rub away any residue from her tea. Many of the other adults stare and whisper among themselves, clearly trying to deliberate carefully over what Mingi’s asked of them. He hopes they can’t see the way his hands tremble around his teacup, nerves shaken with his boldness to come in and demand— albeit kindly and without pretentiousness— to raise their village’s children in a place far away from them.

His answer doesn’t come right away, which he admittedly hadn’t expected with how big of a decision it is. Instead, they tell him they’ll take the time to think of it, which is all he can ask for in the meantime. It wasn’t a yes— but it most certainly wasn’t a _no_ , which was the very thing he’d feared the moment he found himself stepping foot into their communal dining hall.

With that cleared out of the way, he goes back to chatting with them amicably about many things; some of which are related to the children, as he hears antics and stories from others on the days they’d been left to tend to them. The more he hears of their combined rambunctious spirit, the more he sees himself within them. A small remnant of all that he’d been when he was still young and innocent.

He thinks that maybe, with a little love and a lot of determination, he could work his way up to being that same person again. He could balance the youth alongside the maturity. Evidently enough, Yunho had found the way to do that a long time ago.

And above all else, that was something Mingi would forever love about him.

Come a fulfilling or empty ending, what they had could never truly be tainted. Everything that Yunho engaged with would forever be left in a better state than it had been before. There was no need for hatred, or resentment, or endless regret. 

At the very least, Mingi could say that having been with Yunho made him a better person. He had helped him grow the way all good and rewarding loves should.

And that would never be a tragedy to him.

-☼-  
  


They stay only a few more days before it becomes time to leave. Over the span of those days Yunho’s been helping Jongho pack what little belongings the younger owns— which hadn’t been much, seeing as how he lived in a community building with a lot of publicly owned toys and books. Nothing was strictly belonging to anyone besides their clothes and a few select things, which in Jongho’s case had been a small handheld game and a couple of apple-shaped pouches that hid snacks within them. It was mainly courtesy of Yeosang that they were neatly packed with a snack of his choice that Jongho would munch on mindlessly, something that reminded Mingi of Seonghwa when he packed lunches for him as a child.

“Are you all ready to go?” Yunho asks Jongho, Yeosang following close behind with a backpack of his own. Although the living arrangements were far from made, Yunho had determined after only two days that Yeosang would indeed be joining them. Neither protests nor suggestions for otherwise could cause Yeosang to budge, and Mingi internally applauded the boy’s determination that got him all the way here. 

Jongo and Yeosang both nod vehemently, interest deep in their eyes that they try to conceal once they’re allowed to climb into the carriage. Mingi watches them with fondness as they both settle on either side of Yunho, picking at the fabric of their seat and evidently waiting.

What they’re waiting for comes barreling in only moments later, seven aggressively loud voices screeching at one another the closer they come. Mingi snorts at the way it sounds like a stampede is approaching them— though the reality was much cuter.

“Stop going off!” One of the old women chastises, tugging someone— Hwanwoong, he realizes belatedly— back into what’s supposed to resemble a straight line. The seven children were holding one another by their backpacks, looking as though they were prepared to take a long ride to school.

In a way, they sort of were.

“Have all of you been good?” Mingi asks— mainly just to tease, seeing as how the majority of them go red in the cheeks and look down at the ground to avoid giving an answer. Only a few of them perk up with a ‘yes!’ that’s as shameless as it is adorable. Mingi’s found them to have an abundance of both.

“It’s time to get going,” he yells above their chorusing voices, watching as they settle into an excited chatter that’s at least of a lower volume. Seoho leads the bunch with vigor, backpack bouncing as he skips his way to the carriage and climbs in. Youngjo is next, holding the hands of Geonhak and Dongju, whose other hand is clung to his twin. Hwanwoong climbs in with the help of Keonhee, who ends up being the last to climb in with Mingi’s help. 

The little space left in the cramped carriage is taken up by Mingi, who lets Dongju settle on one knee and Geonhak settle on the other. It’s loud, and cluttered, and gets even more so as Wooyoung and San finally get the carriage moving— but it feels right. It feels whole. 

Mingi feels complete as a person. This was his happiness, having found him in many different forms.

He looks up at Yunho, who’s gazing at all the children with love in his eyes. Yunho only looks up briefly to catch Mingi’s stare, smiling warmly underneath the attention as he continues to listen to the children talk animatedly about whatever catches their attention through the carriage window.

And in that second of a gaze, Mingi stares at the love of his life.

And happiness stares right back at him. 

-☼-  
  


It’s only when they stop for baths and rest that Yunho and Mingi finally have the conversation. 

The kids agree to taking a shower before bed, each going in pairs to make sure they don’t get lost or afraid. They choose a nearby shallow pond to bathe as much as possible, careful to not rub their skin too hard or stay in too long that they start to prune. After Yunho’s illness from the hot spring, Mingi had become much more alert about how long they spent in the water. The same sense of concern extends to the children, who are even more fragile in his eyes.

They send them for a maximum of fifteen minutes, which proves to be more than enough for each child. Seoho spends the last few minutes of his shower splashing Geonhak, who takes it with little protest and a lot of giggles. Hwanwoong and Keonhee bicker for a bit about why their heights are different. Dongju and Dongmyeong are the quietest pair, with the latter doing all of the soft small talk as his brother listens with a smile. Youngjo goes alone, not bothered by the arrangement and instead taking the luxury to constantly stare at his reflection and pat his face softly like he’s working something into it. When Yeosang and Jongho go— the final pair out of all the children— they’re gentle and easily amazed by the way the rising moon’s begun to reflect onto the water. They all end up tired after their time to soak, all changing into the pajamas they’ve brought with them and passing out onto the grass with their blankets above and below them. The breeze seems to knock them right out, Mingi notices. It makes a lot of sense considering they were in mid-Autumn and, though the days still remained scorching with the same Summer sun, the nights were beginning to reflect a nicer weather that could lull anyone into slumber. 

It lulls everyone but Yunho and Mingi, who meet at the edge of the pond where they sit, greeting one another privately after so long of no time together.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you,” Yunho smiles. “How’ve you been?”

The tone in his voice— that one that was reserved for his softest and most tender moments, makes Mingi fidget.

“You see me every waking moment,” he whispers. “I’m fine. Enjoying the company of the children, of course.”

“They love you, you know. They really seem to be happy about being under your care.”

Mingi nods, humming quietly before staring down at the water. Their reflections are cast in little strokes along the surface, painted a swaying distortion of what they really are. 

He feels more at home with his distorted reflection than he has on any true reflective surface these days. Still Mingi— just a little more blurred, a little skewed and spread thin. The slightest bit unrecognizable, like something wasn’t right. 

“What will become of us?” Mingi finds himself asking. It plagued him for so long to even muster up the courage to ask, but now that he asks it, not much comes. It’s just a simple puff of air that leaves his lungs, and it remains a hanging question that weighs on his shoulders in constant pressure. And yet still, it doesn’t feel like much. 

He can feel Yunho’s eyes on him, piercing through his side profile. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” Mingi sucks in a breath, hands closing into fists on his lap— “I mean, what will you and I do next? What now?”

That question that Yunho had thrown at him without thought is finally thrown back to him, like Mingi’s hands have already been too burnt to bear carrying it anymore. If he could just get the slightest sign of what was to come, then at the very least he could prepare for it.

“Well,” Yunho’s head quirks to the side, expression easy and smile wide. “I guess we’ll have to work on fixing up rooms for the kids. I don’t know if they’ll want to be in pairs, but we definitely have enough space if they all wanted their own room. Then we’ll have to make them clothes, and plant a lot more fruits and vegetables, and—”

“Hold on,” Mingi stops him, feeling his heart in his throat and his eyes spilling onto his clothes. “I...I don’t understand. Or maybe— maybe _you_ don’t understand.”

“No,” Yunho shakes his head. “I understand perfectly well. You’ve been worried this whole time, haven’t you? That we would separate, I mean.”

“You _knew?”_

“It’s kind of hard not to, Mingi. The closer we got to Jongho, the more anxious you became. And seeing the way you understood Yeosang so quickly…I couldn’t help but put those pieces together. I wanted to talk about it sooner but everything's gotten away from me rather quickly. We’ll have to form a better sense of communication if we’re to raise nine children and still maintain a healthy relationship.” 

“You _knew,_ ” Mingi repeats, voice quiet and frayed. “You fucking knew, this entire time.”

“Mingi…”

“I feel like an idiot, Yunho. I’m a complete fool. I thought I was being selfish and greedy and— and—“

Yunho springs forward to ensnare Mingi’s shaking form in a tight hug, holding him chest to chest and allowing him to rest his forehead atop his shoulder. He strokes Mingi’s red hair until his body pulls taut and snaps like a wire, releasing a muffled sob into the fabric on Yunho’s body. 

“I was so worried,” he mumbles out. “All that time of thinking we were going to part ways...I thought that our one and only time of being intimate would be my first and last. Do you have any idea how much that fucking _sucked?”_

Yunho snorts at that, letting Mingi punch him lightly in the stomach over and over until it becomes little more than a series of weak pats.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Yunho sighs. “But I want you to know that everything that’s happened between us— every kiss, or hug, or time we’ve touched one another—” 

He lifts Mingi from his shoulder, careful to caress the prince’s tear stricken cheeks between his fingers. Delicate, reverent, respectful with every minute twitch as he traces the damp trails with his eyes. He traces his thumb over Mingi’s bottom lip, allowing it to snag and pull the plump flesh a little ways out of place until he releases it.

“Those things mean so much to me, Mingi.” He whispers it like a secret, a small declaration that gets picked up in the rising crescendo of the breeze and carried away. “You mean so much. More than anything has ever mattered to me in this life or could matter in the next. This is _it_ for me, Mingi. You are my romance story. _You_ are my treasure.”

There’s only the sound of the wind singing, in Mingi’s ears. That same sound that had kept him company for as long as he can remember. The world that envelops them and embraces their weakness, holding them steadily and promising company forever. 

But as he looks into Yunho’s eyes, it’s hard to feel as though he needs the world at all. They could drift through space endlessly— Mingi feels they have, with so long on the road and spending their nights gazing at clouds or stars to coerce themselves into comfort enough to rest. Nothing would change. Nothing would matter.

He had Yunho here, to stay. Eternity in the pocket of his hands that cup Yunho’s face the way he does his. _Forever,_ as small as it was and as fleeting as it’d be, was right here.

This was prosperity, a growing flower that had bloomed to full health.

“It’s not a tragedy,” Mingi rasps out. His mouth is so close to Yunho’s that they’re sharing the same breath, stealing the same life and death between their teeth. Balancing that single stolen moment of time that’s frozen and impenetrable. “This isn’t a tragedy, is it?”

Yunho smiles against him, knocking forward just enough to nuzzle their noses together. 

“It’s not a tragedy,” he assures. “You can still love in the face of adversity, you know.”

“How nice,” Mingi mutters mindlessly, uncaring as the heady feeling of being near Yunho overtakes his senses. He’s chasing that feeling— yearning greedily again.

Yunho reciprocates it beautifully, leaving Mingi unabashed for his desire. Their lips meet with a chaste kiss that only grows with time— a thousand butterfly kisses that turn into dozens of prayers on their intertwining tongues.

Yunho pulls back with flushed cheeks and ears, looking the happiest one could be. Looking as happy as Mingi hadn’t known he could ever make another person. “How nice a reality, indeed.”

-☼-  
  


Morning comes with the children bustling around long before Yunho is ready to wake up. It’s rather cute, watching him rise with flushed puffy cheeks and bleary eyes searching for the source of chaos in his ears. His smile grows— albeit much slower than usual— when he spots all of the children in a small cluster looking at butterflies passing by. Mingi is quick to herd them towards washing up and changing behind a small row of bushes, always delicate to touch in fear of hurting them accidentally. Yunho joins him halfway through, and together they make a tenacious team that somehow accomplishes the daunting task of preparing nine children for a long day of carriage riding. 

Wooyoung and San agree to take charge from there, their energy endless and their bodies fidgeting with the excess of it that is well spent on entertaining the little group of youth. The majority of them were only tall enough to latch onto the ends of Mingi’s dress, which was sweet and calming to watch as they swayed with the fabric between their palms like a curtain of protection blanketing them. Geonhak was the main child to do this, and Mingi hadn’t minded one bit besides the refraining he had to practice to not yell the child’s ear off in coos. Learning to balance his volume with the children proved to be a challenge, but the more they latched onto him, the more he was sure it’d be fine enough for him to let a little loose. Geonhak seemed to do well with the noise like Yeosang did, despite not making much of it themselves. 

With his dress in the child’s hands, and the rest following Wooyoung and San’s obnoxiously exaggerative lead, Mingi and Yunho finally hop into their carriage again and take their way for the day.

The children are easier to placate than Mingi had thought, though he supposes that majority of the time they are entertaining one another. It takes a second of realization to dawn on him that they hadn’t come from luxury or excess, instead growing on the smell of grass and little toys they had to take turns sharing. Perhaps their lack of greed or entitlement was due to that modest childhood they’d been living. They could make a conversation on their own, and get by on that alone with the adults playing as spectators who were not allowed inside. Mingi wonders what it’ll be like to give them treasures; wonders if they’ll accept his riches so readily and whether or not they’ll drown in abundance.

Dongju falls asleep on Geonhak’s shoulder with Dongmyeong holding his hand, and Mingi thinks there’s no need to worry.

They’d all be just fine. 

-☼-  
  


Arriving at the estate is a hassle, though the trip back is much less eventful than the trip away. There’s no thunderstorms or weirdly designed inns. No pining and yearning or escaping angry villagers. In fact, there’s more greenery and blue skies than anything else, with a sudden influx of butterflies that make Mingi turn his head more than once. 

Mingi finds the children wandering the gardens the moment they get back, legs itching to run and play after so long confined to the moving transportation and having to sit relatively still. He allows them the right to run and play for a set amount of time, taking their backpacks one by one and— with the help of Yunho— walking along the large halls of the estate to decide on the rooms they’d stay in.

It feels oddly pleasant to do this. Standing around his large and empty home, making space for family. He feels at ease as he settles their backpacks down in separate rooms and makes the beds so that they can come inside and take a nap as soon as possible. He clears a space by the door to move a small storage cabinet, leaving it open for their coats and shoes and labelling each column with little lines of tape to separate the children’s belongings. He feels like he imagines his fathers did while doing these same things for him, settling a time and space aside for him to live as comfortably as they did. Doing everything with his small, eager demeanor in mind. 

Once he’s taped down the last label, Yunho comes up behind him to wrap him in a hug. He presses his front tight to Mingi’s back, digging his nose into his shoulder and staying there.

“I hadn’t known parenthood was this exhilarating,” Mingi hums. “Nor this tiresome.”

He feels the soft rumble of Yunho in his neck, pulling away to prop his chin there and stare at Mingi’s small bout of handiwork. “It’s only going to get more tiring from here. Luckily, we’re a fine team.”

“I suppose we are,” Mingi snorts. 

Yunho grins at that, his cheek puffing with the tug of his lips. Mingi can feel it on his skin when he nips at the small bit of exposed shoulder from his dress’ neckline. 

_This is happiness,_ he thinks with wonder. _This is what happiness really feels like._

And it’s not that Mingi had never been happy. As a child he was loved and showered in all that a young boy his age could want. In his years of adolescence, he was allowed to explore the immediate world around him and discovered the joy of philanthropy and equality with his people. And in adulthood, he found Yunho, who felt a lot like giving and taking in equal parts. Like the culmination of all of his youth’s greatest discoveries in one single feeling. Mining has always been happy, to some degree.

But having this overwhelming sense of accomplishment washing over him— that of appreciation and gratitude— brings a sensory overload that causes tears to prick his eyes. So long of waiting and wondering, even from boyhood, for these questions to be answered. All of it had been awarded to him now for his patience. 

Having no company, having no peace of mind, having no one to love and be loved by; those things were long gone. He was surrounded, and cared for, and _loved._

He was royalty, even without a crown on his head.

“Are you alright?” Yunho asks him timidly over his shoulder, touch becoming light as air when he sees Mingi’s glassy stare. The prince can do nothing but nod against him, throat tight with a reserve of petals that wanted to spill out so desperately and coat his cold tile. He feels the urge to cover everything in growing vines and wild flowers; to make everything warm and shimmering and auriferous.

Yunho seems to understand perfectly, turning just a little so that he can nuzzle with his nose into Mingi’s cheek. “Everything’s perfect, isn’t it?”

“It’s never been better,” Mingi sniffles. “I’ve just...never been this happy before. I feel... _rich._ Perhaps, richer than I’ve ever been.”

“Maybe because we are. Rich in love, and wealth, and family.”

“I wish I knew when you stepped into my estate that I was going to get some of the best and worst times of my life. I can’t tell if you’ve added to my lifespan or shortened it.” Mingi pinches one of the hands around his abdomen, hearing Yunho let out a small yelp at the sensation before retaliating by tickling into Mingi’s stomach. It’s a gentle and quiet exchange, though it feels as light and playful as Mingi’s been waiting a long while to feel.

“Does it matter?” Yunho pouts into his ear. “You’re spending the rest of it with me anyways.”

Mingi laughs in his arms, turning around to look at Yunho’s grinning face and glowing eyes. He hears the sound of San and Wooyoung laughing outside, trying to get the children together in time to clean and have dinner. Besides the light screeching and cheering of many voices, Mingi hears nothing but the wind.

The sounds of nature, which have followed him from being the only sound in his life, to one of many calming songs that drifted through his ears. That sense of significant existence that’s always trailed after him until he could create some of his own. 

Yunho stares back at his steadfast gaze, a silent question in the tilt of his head as to what Mingi’s studying so closely.

“I love you,” Mingi murmurs. Just an insignificant chirp of his feelings that he wants to forever play back on an endless loop. That small bit of euphoria that was his for as long as it could stretch itself. This happiness that was his for as long as he could hold onto it.

Yunho’s eyes shine then, and Mingi finally sees it.

“I love you too.”

Their love shimmers in between their hands with the power of a thousand suns, each and every one made of gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Can't believe I wrote all that TT-TT
> 
> I've had the idea to make three separate stories; two prequels and one a sequel. I wanted to know if a WooSan centric story (before the kingdom fell), a SeongJoong centric story (how the kingdom was formed) or another YunGi centric story (the after-story of this, where we focus more on Mingi's kingdom and what's happened to his fathers...<-<) are of interest to you guys! If that's something you want to see, let me know :)
> 
> My next big project is still under wraps, but you can find out more about all of the things I'm doing in the meantime on my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/sanniedaize) Let's be friends. I really need some. TT-TT
> 
> Thanks for reading all this way :) I really appreciate it so much. Comments and Kudos are never necessitated, but I really really thrive off of them. You can write some if you read all this way and want to let me know it wasn't a waste of your time! Thanks again for even giving this fic the time of day!
> 
> -n.


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